


Letters to Everybody

by Siebenschlaefer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, M/M, Sane Voldemort, Slash, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:53:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siebenschlaefer/pseuds/Siebenschlaefer
Summary: During a horrible summer after fifth year, Harry has enough, all he wants to be is free. Using the connection between Voldemort and himself, Harry begins to realize what he has to do to end the war. Decision made, Harry writes letters to nearly everybody he knows or has something to say to. Will Harry's action end the war and bring changes to the wizarding world? And will somebody realize his plans and save him?





	1. The first letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I wish it was mine, but alas I am not J. K. Rowling and will never be. All rights of these wonderful universe belong to her.
> 
> I read a lot of HP fanfiction of the last year, and over the time a plot bunny wouldn’t go away. The result is my first try on my own fanfic. English is not my first language, so be patient with me please, I appreciate the pointing out of every grammar or spelling mistake or odd words etc.
> 
> A big thank you for a-bit-of-madness for beta'ing.
> 
> **Warnings:** child abuse, suicide attempt, slash (but it will take some time) and Severus-Harry mentorship/guardianship – if you don't like it, don't read it, you have been warned.
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **Let's start the story**

 

It was a rather cold night for the middle of July. A few clouds gathered in the black night sky, but the moonlight shone bright enough to illuminate the smallest bedroom of No 4 Privet Drive. The occupant of this room sat on a small cot, a thin blanket over his legs, his back to the wall. Using a large book as a pad, Harry Potter finished the letter he was writing with a quick _Goodbye, Harry_. Sighing, he blew on the parchment to dry the ink faster and put the letter on top of the others he had written over the last few hours.

Stretching his legs and trying to get rid of the cramps in his neck, Harry couldn’t suppress a wince when the skin around one of the fresh welts on his back was pulled. Uncle Vernon had had a very bad day at work and had drunk on the way back home. It was always worse when he was drunk.

It wasn’t the worst beating he had gotten this summer, but together with the injuries from the last one, two days earlier, his back was raw and felt like it was on fire. Gently rolling up the arm of his too big t-shirt, Harry inspected the dark bruises on his left upper arm from being dragged up the stairs. At least nothing was broken, he thought, rubbing his tired eyes. The mass of curls on his head stood up in every direction from the anxious way he’d been pushing his fingers through it while writing.

 A cold breeze made his skin break out into goose bumps and he looked out of the open window, where a movement caught his attention. Hedwig, his beautiful snowy owl came flying through the window and landed on the bed beside him.

“Hey Hedwig”, Harry said in a whisper and began stroking her. “How was your night? Caught a big fat mouse?” Hedwig hooted and nipped at his finger affectionately.

“I have some letters for you to deliver if you’re not too tired.” Hedwig looked at him indignantly and nipped his finger harder, making Harry smile. “Yes, yes, I know. You are the best.” He shuffled through the pile of letters till he found the one he wanted.

“Here, this one first. Don’t wait for a reply, get out of there as fast as possible.” Harry carefully secured the letter to Hedwig’s leg, then picked her up and carried her to the open window. With one last quiet hoot, Hedwig took off into the night, quickly soaring out of sight.

For a few moments Harry listened to the noises of the house. When only Dudley’s snoring reached his ears, he relaxed. Uncle Vernon would kill him if he was woken up in the middle of the night because of Hedwig and, theoretically, he was not allowed to send letters to anybody. Mentally shrugging, Harry grinned. It was more like he was sending letters to _everybody_ not anybody (ok, not the whole population of Wizarding Britain, but to a lot of people nonetheless).

“I am not sure if this was really a good idea, but too late to back down now. In for a knut…”

He picked up the pile of letters and sorted through them. Satisfied that he hadn’t forgotten anyone, he put them in the right order and placed them under the loose floor board under the bed. His most prized possessions were in there - his wand, the invisibility cloak, his firebolt, the photo album with pictures of his parents and the food Mrs. Weasley had send him two weeks ago. He still had some left, and with how little he was used to eating now it would last him till the end of the summer.

Taking a piece from a meat pie, Harry sat on the floor savouring every bite. Sipping some water out of the three bottles he also kept under the bed, he planned his next step. In three days, the whole British wizarding world would know what Voldemort and Dumbledore had tried to hide. Both had their reasons, and in Harry’s eyes both were wrong.

Three days and he would be free.

Leaving the window open slightly, in case Hedwig came back during the next few hours, Harry climbed into bed, wrapped the blanket around himself and fell into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

The occupants of Malfoy Manor also had a restless night, which had everything to do with their ‘honoured’ guest in the east wing. Nobody slept well with Lord Voldemort in the same building.

The fire in his personal living room was roaring, but Voldemort could not feel the heat. Since his resurrection one year ago he’d had a kind of foreboding feeling, something was not right. The feeling had only intensified after he managed to possess Harry Potter, the damn boy-who-didn’t-die, in the Ministry of Magic only a few weeks before.

A tapping at the window pulled Voldemort from his thoughts. Knowing that nothing harmful could have entered the wards of Malfoy Manor, he walked to the window, carefully stepping over his familiar Nagini who lay curled up beside him.  Outside on the window seat sat a snow-white owl with a letter attached to its leg.

Who would send him a letter in the middle of the night?

Opening the window, the owl stretched his leg to him. As soon as Voldemort had removed the letter, it took off again. Frowning, the Dark Lord inspected the letter, finding nothing that could have given a clue who the sender was.

He hissed in surprise and anger as he saw the name at the front. There, in simple letters, a name was written, a name only a few living people would remember and lesser would connect to him:

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

Feeling fury rise within him, Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard in the world, opened the letter.

_Dear Tom (sorry but I really can’t call you Lord Voldemort, it‘s a ridiculous anagram. Flight from death? Really?)_

White hot anger sparked in the Dark Lord, palpable throughout the room- who dared to mock **HIM**? The darkest and most powerful wizard since Merlin!

Somewhere behind him he heard glass shatter and Nagini shifted uneasily in her sleep. He took a slow deep breath, taking back control of his magic. Whoever the sender was, they would be dead in the next days.

_Oops, sorry, I really didn’t want to mock you. Back to the matter at hand._ _I have information that you’re going to find important, so before you set this letter on fire,_ _read till the end._

_Yes, I know that you, Lord Voldemort_ _, were once known by the name Tom_ _Marvolo Riddle. I know a lot_ _of things about_ _you, but that’s neither here nor there_ _. What I want to tell you is that you made a mistake - well, you made more than one and eventually you will come to regret all of them- but one specific mistake, could be your downfall. This isn’t meant as a threat, it’s simply the truth._

_But perhaps I should start at the beginning._

_Your f_ _irst mistake was creating your very first Horcrux at 16 (Yes, I know about them, all of them_ _. Don’t get your knickers in a twist). What you ignored- or didn’t know or wasn’t in your calculations- was the fact that when you murdered Myrtle, your soul wouldn’t split a small amount.  No, it split in half!_ _Half of your 16-year-old soul was put in the diary._

_Do you even know what the consequences were?_

_At 16 our magic is not completely settled, our magical core is still growing, still developing, and it is closely linked to our soul. A growing magical core needs a whole soul to develop and to give us the ability to reach the top of our magical potential. Without a soul, or with a damaged one, the access to our magic is crippled._

_Do you even understand what you did, you bloody fool?_

_You crippled yourself, hindered your magical development and blocked your access to your own magic. And you lost the ability for some very important human emotions. Do you even feel anything aside from anger, fury and sadistic pleasure?_

_You paved the way to your own insanity, with every Horcrux you made you destroyed not just your soul, but your mind and you didn’t even see it.  But you will once you’ve finished reading._

_Your goals before the Horcruxes weren’t too bad, I even have to say they were rather right. We must stay hidden from the Muggles, and it is sad how much muggle traditions are brought into our world disregarding the wizarding ones, and every magical child should be put into a good and loving home, never put into a muggle orphanage_ _._

_I understand your hatred of muggles, probably better than most, but the way you went about this was wrong – genocide is always wrong._

_And then you_ _strayed farther and farther_ _from these original goals. Pure-blood supremacy is not the answer, it leads to inbreeding which leads to magically weak children and squibs (if you have the time read muggle literature about DNA, gene pools, gene mutation and mendelian rules). I mean, look around, Half-bloods and Muggle-borns are so much more powerful than most of the purebloods (Severus Snape, my mother and you are only a few examples)._

_Okay, but back to_ _the point._ _Every time you made a Horcrux your soul was split in half_ _, driving you to further insanity,_ _reducing the accessibility of your magical core and crippling your magic in strength and potential. Then, when you went after me on Halloween 1981, because of a self-fulfilling prophecy, your soul was damaged_ _beyond repair._

_The murder of two people and the attempted murder of an innocent baby broke it, again, in half. Half of the little soul you had left broke off and it would have vanished, but it found a whole soul to ground it. So, it attached itself to the only soul left – me. You made me your Horcrux that night, ironic if you think about how often you’ve tried to kill me_ _._

_The next mistake you made was using my blood to resurrect yourself. You deepened the connection between us. And yes, you’ve used it to torture me with these dreams and visions (and isn’t it another sign how insane you are that you never thought about this connection, never tried to find out from where it came from, never realized that I am your Horcrux?). But you forgot something: a connection goes both ways. And so, I often went to visit you, especially this summer._

_I learned so much about you and our connection. In the next few hours I will use it, to give you back what is yours, and what you should never have split. I will give you back your soul and with it, your brilliant mind, your missing emotions and the ability to understand what you did. And even if you are a homicidal maniac at heart, it will still hurt to see the utter mess you fabricated, how much you strayed from your goals and your path. How many important wizarding bloods you wasted and lost._

_I almost wish I could be there when you realize all this, it would be interesting to see what you do next, but my plans will not allow it._ _After tonight, do what you think is best, I won’t care or interfere._

_This will be the last time you hear from me. I wish you all the best, Tom Marvolo Riddle, and may the wizarding world be prepared to deal with you in all your powerful, brilliant, sane and hopefully not homicidal glory._

_Goodbye,_

_Harry Potter_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Please review and let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.
> 
> In the moment my beta is editing the already published 9 chapters, and I will be working to update them when I get them back. So the next new chapter (chapter 10) will take some time.
> 
> First published: 4th of March 2018  
> Last edited: 15th of October 2018


	2. Merging soul pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Still not mine
> 
> **A/N:** Thank you for your kind reviews. That there are people not only reading but also liking what my crazy mind produced made me grin for hours and motivated to write the next chapter. I hope you like it.
> 
> This chapter is now beta’ed, by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness.
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story**

 

Thin pale hands with long fingers and sharp nails clutched the letter, trembling in sheer all-encompassing rage. But there was something else in his blood-red eyes, something like fear. The boy knew of his Horcruxes. If the boy knows, does Dumbledore also know? But how?  His horcruxes were his most hidden secret, not even his most trusted Death Eaters knew about them.

Could the boy be right, though?

In all his research on horcruxes he’d never read about the possibility of insanity and loss of magic. Did he really cripple his magical core and magic accessibility? The few books he had found about Horcruxes talked about consequences and a price to pay, but never specified what and because he hadn’t really felt different after the first one, he forgot about it. 

But this was not the time to think about this. If the boy knew about his Horcruxes and possibly Albus too, they were in danger. He had to check on them. The boy mentioned the diary, perhaps he should call Lucius…

No, none of his follower really knew what he had done to become immortal. To call Lucius and inquire about the diary would be too suspicious. 

Perhaps the ring…

Clenching his fist brought Voldemort back from his thoughts as looked down to the crumped letter, a passage catching his eyes. Was Harry Potter really his Horcrux? It would be truly ironic if it was true.

The quiet sound of Nagini shifting in her sleep made him glance at his familiar. The Horcrux in her deepened the familiar bond between them, enabling him to visit her mind and see through her eyes. Yes, it was quite like the connection he had with Potter. Had he managed what nobody had before?

Creating a human Horcrux…

The possibilities…

For a short moment Lord Voldemort felt smug, then his eyes went wide, and he looked at the letter again.

_‘a connection goes both ways’_

Yes, he could use this. Voldemort drew his head back and laughed, a maniacal, sinister sound. Yes, a connection goes both ways, and he’d already used it this last school year quite satisfactorily to torment the boy.

A quick look to the window confirmed that it was still night, perhaps early morning. The boy would be still asleep.

Perfect.

Lord Voldemort sat down in the armchair in front of the fire. He searched for the connections with Nagini and Potter in his mind. Yes, they were alike, so the boy really _was_ his Horcrux. With this realization, Lord Voldemort felt a wave of possessiveness for Harry Potter.

He was _his_ , his human Horcrux, and he must be protected.

He would have to tell his Death Eaters that he was to be brought to him – alive and unhurt.

But now he had to find out where Harry Potter was, what he knew and if Dumbledore suspected what Potter was. If he knew, he would kill the boy, or perhaps he had hoped that he, Lord Voldemort himself, would kill him if he was blind to the true nature of their connection.

Concentrating on the connection to Potter, Lord Voldemort lowered his occlumency shields and reached for the boy’s mind.

 

* * *

  

A sharp pain in his scar woke Harry a few hours after sending Hedwig off with the first letter. Groaning he pressed his hand against the scar, sat up und looked around. Hedwig was in her open cage, asleep. She’d delivered it.

Harry hissed as another painful sting was felt in his scar.

Good, Tommy boy got his letter, and he was reading it. Harry had known before he even wrote the letter that Tom wouldn’t like what he had to say. Therefore, the burning in his lightning bolt scar was not a surprise. He could feel the murderous rage echoing off the man while he read. Nice to know, that he still could rile him up.

A new wave of pain reminded Harry that he had to proceed to the next step of his plan. He lowered himself to the floor, cross-legged, and closed his eyes. This was the most important and most dangerous part. He could lose himself during the procedure.

Concentrating on his breathing, Harry descended into his mind.

He had done this a lot in the last weeks. First to find a way to protect his mind against Voldemort, but after studying the connection they shared, he often dwelled there and observed it. He had learned so much, not only about the connection and Voldemort, but also about his own mind.

The disastrous occlumency lesson with Snape had left him thinking he would never understand the art, but after he familiarized himself with his mind space, he now had quite strong shields.

Looking around, he found himself in a small, cosy room with an armchair in front of a large fireplace and bookshelves all around the walls. Books and boxes in various sizes and colours filled them. None of them were labelled, and there was no obvious order.

Harry sighed, everything was where it should be. He approached one of the bookshelves and took a grey box from it, then walked to the armchair and sat down with the box in his lap. Carefully, he opened the lid. A mass of red and green, not entirely solid but clearly not mist, swirled around something that looked like a wound in the shape of a lightning bolt, completely midnight black in its colour. Strings of red from the swirling mass vanished into the black wound.

Harry touched one of the strings… yes, Voldemort was furious, but he could also feel an underlying fear. Interesting, so he could still feel something besides anger. Leaving this string alone, Harry touched one of the others, this one thicker than the one connecting him with Voldemort.

The presence at the other end of the connection felt muted, there was still the ever-present anger Harry always could feel from Voldemort, but it felt more like an echo or a memory, nothing alive. Good, it wasn’t Nagini. Taking a deep breath Harry reached with his magic along the string.

Whatever was at the end of the connection felt wrong, unnatural and malicious. But also, broken and lonely. As gently as he could, but with a strong and firm grab, he let his magic envelope the presence and tugged. Wherever it was anchored held tight, but Harry tugged harder and finally, after what felt like hours, it came free. A mist manifested before him, red and black colours, moving like it had a mind of its own.

Closing the box and setting it aside, Harry rose from the armchair. A quick glance to the middle of the room, confirmed that the basin he needed was there. His magic still enveloping the mist, Harry directed it to the basin. It was not filled with water, but with a grey, milky liquid. Colours drifted to the surface and sank again, forming swirls and ribbons and beautiful formations, only to diffuse and build new ones.

Harry held his breath as the mist, directed by his magic, floated above the liquid. Finger like structures rose from the liquid connecting with the mist. and with a warm breath of magic the mist was sucked into the liquid, leaving behind a surface smooth as glass.

A grin formed on Harry’s lips. It was working… okay, he had been sure that he could move the soul piece in a Horcrux along the strings connecting them all to each other. But still… he had not dared to try it in fear of alerting Voldemort or Dumbledore.

But to see in practise what he only planned and studied in theory … it was… exceptional.

Harry sat back in the armchair and placed the box back in his lap. One down, four to go. Concentrating on the next string Harry reached out with his magic, to do what only he could do, reaching out from one Horcrux to the other.

 

* * *

 

In an old rundown shack a golden ring embedded with a black stone in a golden box under the floorboards shone shortly before, with something like a sigh, it cracked. The black stone rolled on the ground… and vanished.

 

* * *

 

Coming out of his mind Harry glanced at the clock. Good, not even an hour was gone. Harry got up from his position on the floor and stretched. It was draining to reach across the soul connection, freeing the pieces and bringing them to his mind. But he had managed.

A big grin formed on Harry’s face.

Residing in the basin in his mind were now the soul piece from the diary- which had lashed itself to Harry after he had destroyed its original container- and five other pieces he had collected in the last hour. The pieces in the basin had merged together and Harry now had nearly the whole soul of Lord Voldemort aka Tom Riddle in his possession. Only three pieces were missing- the one in Harry himself, the one in Nagini and the one in Voldemort’s body. He wouldn’t call it the main piece because it was even smaller than the one residing in Harry, perhaps original or dominant would be an appropriate term.

A piercing pain in his scar brought Harry back to the matters at hand. He sat back and entered his mind space again.

Back in the cosy room, Harry checked the box with the red and green mass swirling around the black lightning wound. Only three strings were left, and the one connecting himself with Voldemort shone in a malicious red light.

Ah, Voldemort had opened the connection on his side. Harry smirked. Perfect, exactly what he wanted- an invitation. He only had to act fast enough, before Voldemort could invade his mind, and for what Harry wanted to do, he needed the occlumency shields down on both sides.

Taking a deep breath, Harry placed the box at the edge of the basin, then he reached out with his magic and wrapped it around the grey liquid, lifting it out. It looked a little bit like one of Trelawney’s crystal spheres. Then he lifted the red and green mass with the black lightning bolt wound in the centre out of the box and positioned it under the liquid ball representing Voldemort’s soul.

Outside of his mindscape he felt the sweat forming in his forehead.

Inside, Harry slowly brought the liquid and the black lightning bolt wound nearer to each other. The moment they connected a bright light flashed and Harry had to close his eyes.

Shaking from the strain on his magic he directed the soul liquid to the strand connecting himself with Voldemort. Immediately, the soul began to fight against his constraints and Harry led it along the connection through the black wound and then opened his tight grip, letting the soul find its own way.

The backlash of emotions coming through the connection when the big soul piece reached, connected and merged with the piece in Voldemort’s body spoke of joy and happiness, but also sadness because they were still not whole. The magic backslash threw Harry from his mind and into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

At Malfoy Manor Lord Voldemort screamed as the pieces of his soul came back through the connection with Potter and merged with the small piece left in his body. With it came a rush of emotions and revelations and a surge in his magic, that overtaxed his mind. Crumpling in his armchair, Lord Voldemort fell into blissful darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Thank you for reading. Please review and let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.
> 
> First published: 8th of March 2018  
> Last edited: 23th of October 2018


	3. The second letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Still nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine, everything belongs to the wonderful magician J.K. Rowling and the only thing I gain is getting the plot bunnies out of my head.
> 
> **AN:** Wow, thank you all for those wonderful comments and to everyone who bookmarked, subscribed and left kudos. You guys are the best. 
> 
> Kudos to all of you.
> 
> This chapter is now beta’ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness.
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story**

 

Harry woke with a groan, a severe headache, pounding in his skull. It took him several minutes to realise that the pounding was not only happening in his head. Someone was banging on his door.

The loud and shrill voice of his Aunt Petunia cut through the haze of his splitting headache and the ringing in is ears. It took Harry some time to make sense of the words.

“Get up! You have 10 minutes in the bathroom and then make breakfast.” The sound of a dozen different locks opening followed and then Harry heard footsteps retreating down the stairs.

Harry opened his eyes, blinking away the tears which threatened to gather as the early morning light caused another ripple pain behind his forehead. Concentrating on his breathing for a moment Harry opened his eyes again…slowly. Only then did he realize that he was laying on the floor, which was quite uncomfortable.

Fucking fantastic, what a wonderful way to begin the day.

Harry gritted his teeth and got up, fighting off a wave of nausea and dizziness as he did. His whole body ached and cried out in pain with every movement as he made his way to the bathroom across the hallway.

After using the loo and splashing his face with cold water, the world slowly started coming into focus. He sighed as he glanced into the mirror. He looked horrible and tired and sick. His naturally messy raven hair looked greasy and limp. His skin had a grey shine to it and his normally vibrant and intense green eyes were dull, glazed and weary. His cheeks were hollowed. He looked like he had one foot already in the grave.

Without another glance at the mirror, Harry shuffled into his bedroom, grabbed a clean tee and hurried down the stairs into the kitchen. His 10 minutes were already up and Aunt Petunia made her disapproval quite clear when she looked at him.

“Hurry up, Vernon will be down in 20 minutes and you better hope breakfast is on the table then or your Uncle will deal with you.” Then she shooed him to the oven. Harry gave her a sneer. He knew that his Uncle would _deal_ with him regardless of getting breakfast ready in time or not.

Since coming home after fifth year and the scene at Kings Cross, Uncle Vernon had been harsh and vindictive with his treatment of Harry. He really didn’t like to be threatened and he had punished Harry the moment they crossed the threshold of number four Privet Drive. The bruises from this first beating had only just begun fading.

In the summers before, Harry would have tried to be out of their way as often as possible and to not react to their taunting, putting a mask of indifference on. Vernon hated it when he couldn’t get a reaction out of Harry.

He snorted. If the people at school knew that he put aside his Gryffindor persona and brought out his inner Slytherin to survive the summers, they would have a heart attack. But since developing his plan to use the connection with Voldemort to deal with the prophecy (and from there, all the rest of the shit going on in his life), he had found that he couldn’t suppress his amusement anymore.

And it _was_ amusing, how Vernon went from red to purple in seconds if he thought something was not “normal”- or what he perceived as normal, because how the Dursleys treated him was definitely _not_ normal. Harry had realized this the first week of primary school. The crude remarks, the insults, the taunts and hateful words were now dripping off Harry. He had thought before that he had quite a thick skin, but he realized the words had still hurt somewhere deep inside. Now he found them funny and had a hard time not reacting amused all the time.

He was a little afraid he might transform into Draco Malfoy with all the sneering going on, but he couldn’t help himself.

And why should he? He had a cruel, homicidal madman after his life, the wizarding world loved him in one moment only to throw him away the moment he did something they didn’t like and labelled him an attention seeking lunatic. But still, the people expected him to kill one of the most powerful wizard of their time- a wizard who had far more experience and was proficient in the Dark Arts- while Harry was a teenager, not yet sixteen! Compared to this, the treatment from his relatives- as painful and horrendous as it was- was endurable.

Harry put a frying pan on the stove, took up a spatula and started to make breakfast, a mountain of bacon and eggs, buttered toast and lots of coffee. As an afterthought, he included some porridge with fruits for Dudley. He had come home, with a lot more muscles and less fat than the year before, and a new diet plan from his boxing trainer and the school nurse. Petunia had pursed her thin lips and complained about how her little Duddykins was still growing and growing boys needed their bacon, but for the first time Dudley had been stubborn concerning healthy food.

The diet plan was stuck to the fridge and Dudley refused to eat anything that wasn’t on it. Vernon punished Harry every time he adhered to the diet plan because he thought he knew better than a nurse and was sure that Dudley needed his fatty food, but Dudley was grateful to Harry and tried to help him behind his parents back, bringing him food Petunia wouldn’t miss and water. He even let him out of his room when Vernon and Petunia were not at home.

Harry heard the tell-tale stomping of Vernon coming down the stairs and hurried to put everything on the table. Petunia shooed him to the kitchen sink to start cleaning the pans. Harry only needed a short glance to Vernon to see that he was not in a good mood, which only got worse as Dudley came into the kitchen, sat down and happily started eating his porridge. He shot a murderous glance in Harry’s direction, who couldn’t completely suppress a sigh.

“Dudley, pack your stuff after breakfast, we will visit Aunt Marge over the next days. She is looking forward to see her favourite nephew for weeks now.” Petunia smiled sweetly at her son, who didn’t look pleased at the prospect of visiting Marge.

As Harry started to clean the table Dudley looked up.

“And Harry?”

Both his parents froze.

“What about the Freak?” Vernon grunted, his face colour changing to red. Petunia beamed at her son, he was such an angel to think of the freak, even if he shouldn’t.

“We can’t take him with us, you know this. Marge would never allow it. He will be staying here, in his room. So, you don’t have to be afraid that he will go into your room and destroy it or steal something.” Dudley looked horrified at his mother.

“But Mum….” Harry caught Dudley’s eyes and shook his head. Dudley closed his mouth but didn’t looked happy.

“Don’t worry son, go now and pack your stuff.” The moment Dudley was out of the kitchen, , Vernon grabbed Harry by his arm and shoved him into the wall.

“You heard us, we will be going to Marge’s place for a few days. You will be staying in your room. No funny business, do you hear me?” He spat at Harry and squeezed his already bruised arm.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.” Harry drawled, not entirely sure if Vernon heard the sarcasm dripping. Perhaps he should check if Draco Malfoy was still alive and his ghost was not possessing him. Vernon narrowed his eyes and shoved him in the direction of the stairs.

“Go to your room and stay there.”

 

 

Half an hour later, Harry heard the car leaving the driveway as he slouched in his bed. Petunia had given him a few bottles of water and a loaf of bread with some cheese. She hadn’t looked happy to give him even this much. Vernon had come in, bellowed a few more threats, gave him an empty bucket with a mean grin and had looked the door behind him, every single lock on his door had been shut. Harry sighed., Really? A bucket? Prisoners had nicer facilities. But it didn’t matter, or wouldn’t matter in two days, if everything would go accordingly.

But it was fortunate that his relatives had left. He could send some of the letters now, instead of tonight. Getting up from the bed, Harry walked to Hedwig’s cage and gently stroke her.

“Hey girl. I know you prefer to sleep during the day and you already flew a lot in the night, but are you up to delivering some more letters for me?” Hedwig opened her eyes and looked at him. Then she playfully nipped his finger and ruffled her feathers.

“Ok, I understand, let me get them.” Harry kneeled on the floor and got the stack of letters out from under the floorboard. He took the first three and bound them to Hedwig’s leg, in the order of delivery. Hedwig hooted in affirmation and hopped onto his arm.

“You are the best.” Harry carried her to the window. He was not sure if Uncle Vernon even knew that the bars he had put there before Harry was home from Hogwarts were wide enough, that Hedwig could squeeze through them. Nevertheless, Harry was quite happy about it, he always felt guilty when Hedwig couldn’t go flying during the summer, and now it was a huge advantage.

“Have a safe trip.” With a final hoot, Hedwig took flight. Harry watched her for a few seconds, then he went back to bed and settled down for a nap. Before he closed his eyes, he checked the soul connection, but Voldemort was still quiet at the other end, which could mean anything, from unconsciousness to occlumency shields. Deciding that he couldn’t do anything in the moment, Harry let himself drift to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Severus Snape, youngest Potions Master in Britain, Professor at Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head of Slytherin House was in a fabulous mood. The small smile which had settled itself on his features would have sent most of his students screaming, but nobody was there to see this, albeit crooked, but happy smile and it was because of this absence Severus allowed himself a smile- he wouldn’t have to see any of the dunderheads till September.

He had a wonderful morning, drinking his favourite black coffee while reading the newest issue of _Potions Progress_ , studying an article about the newest improvements of the _wound-closing Potion_ , a Potion used for healing self-inflicted wounds which couldn’t be closed by medical charms because the inherent magic was preventing it. But the potion was far from perfect, most of the time the self-inflicted wounds would close only for a short time, depending on the magical power and the intent of the patient.

Severus hummed while checking the formula of the Potion and comparing it with the changes the author of the article suggested. It could work, but there were several alternative ingredients and brewing procedures coming to his mind which could improve the potions beyond what the author suggested. Yes, after breakfast he would check his ingredients cupboard to be sure he had what he needed and then try each alternative.

Severus could already feel his excitement building up. There was nothing as stimulating as potions research. He had no real passion for teaching, only the upper years were really worth it, research would always be his favourite. It was no surprise, therefore, that he preferred the summer holidays over every other time of the year. The thrill of advancing into territories only a select few gifted individuals in the world could go, the satisfaction of finding a solution to an especially hard puzzle and the feeling of immersing oneself completely into a subject, this was what Severus lived for.

A hoot distracted him from his reading. While his mind had been occupied by the article and his possible brewing session, an owl had entered his kitchen through the open window. A beautiful snowy owl he recognized, he had seen her many times snatching bacon from her owner.

Severus’ good mood dimmed slightly, what could his least favourite student want from him during the summer holidays? He narrowed his eyes. Had the ungrateful, spoiled little whelp found trouble only a few weeks after the mess he had produced in the Ministry of Magic? And why would he write to him? For a few seconds Severus thought of ignoring the letter, but the owl hooted once more, took flight and landed on his shoulder. Severus sighed and untied the letter the animal was impatiently holding out to him. Before he could read the names on the other letters tied to the owl’s leg, she took flight and left through the same window she had entered through.

Sighing again Severus looked at the letter. It was simply addressed to

_Professor Severus Snape_

in the familiar chicken-scrawl of Harry Potter. Shoving his unease aside, Severus opened the letter and began to read.

_Dear Professor Snape_

_I know I have never written to you, but current circumstances call for it. I gained some important knowledge and initiated plans you need to be made aware of. And no, I couldn’t have told Dumbledore, because he is not the right man for it._

_But first, I really want to apologize for my juvenile and unjust behaviour. It was immature of me to breach your privacy in the way I did. There is no reasonable explanation for my behaviour,_ _especially after you cut short on your free time to teach me._ _And I want to apologize for the behaviour of my father. He was a bully and that is something I never could agree with. I had a talk with Sirius about their behaviour and was outraged to see that_ _he didn’t think they_ _were in the wrong._

_So now_ _that that is out_ _of my system… **Snape you are no better!**_

_You belittled an eleven-year-old boy, who only learned a month before that he was a wizard, because he couldn’t answer your questions. Nobody else could answer them, only Hermione, but that doesn’t count. Over the years you, who knew what it’s like to be bullied, made my life at Hogwarts even_ _harder than it already was._

_You went from being bullied, to being the bully._

_You are a cruel, resentful_ _and bitter man, and because I look like one of your tormentors and you couldn’t separate me from him, you used me to get your petty revenge. You acted under the prejudice that I was just like my father, and how could I be different if I LOOK like him. Did you never realize that I didn’t even **know** the man? How could I behave like him if I never knew him, never heard of him before my eleventh birthday? _

_You are the adult, and yet you never behaved like one. You took great pleasure in telling me over and over again that I was as arrogant, spoiled, stupid and awful as my father. It hurt, a lot…_

_As a child I always hoped that my parents were perhaps not dead and would_ _be coming for_ _me. I dreamed of them, but I never had a clear picture because I knew **nothing** of them, not even their names, till I started Hogwarts. There I met people who could tell me about my parents, they always told me how beautiful and fierce my mother was and how brave and fun and intelligent my father. _

_So, he became something like a hero for me, especially because I never knew him, and I was so proud._

_But you, you destroyed that._

_I could live with the taunts and belittlement (Merlin knows I have enough practice) but you managed to make me doubt him, and after the pensieve incident I started to feel ashamed of being James Potter’s son. You made me feel disgusted by his behaviour. I hope that makes you happy at least…I hope it was worth it, the greatest revenge you could inflict on a dead_ _man who can’t fight back anymore._

_And it is quite funny, that all your insults were based on false facts, because nobody would consider me spoilt if they knew of my home life._

_Phew, I really needed to get that out of my system._

_Now back to why I wrote this letter._

_Professor, do you know what a Horcrux is? I will summarize it, just in case. A Horcrux is Dark Magic of the evilest kind, in which a fragment of a soul is embedded by a witch or a wizard into an object, therefore granting immortality. They are created by committing murder, followed by a ritual and a spell, during which the soul is split in half. There are horrendous consequences to splitting one’s soul, insanity, reduced accessibility of the magical core and crippling of the magical strength are some of them. Go to Grimmauld place and use the Black library, there are some books which are quite informative on the subject._

_Voldemort created a Horcrux when he was sixteen._

The anger which had been built while reading evaporated instantly. Severus paled. How could someone do something so repulsive as splitting his own soul? He felt a wave of nausea pass over him. Taking a gulp of his now cold coffee, he read on.

 

_But that wasn’t enough for him. He was on his way to insanity, which made him even more paranoid and afraid of death. Someone could destroy his Horcrux, so why not make a second one? But he didn’t stop with two. By 1981 he had made five, and that’s the reason he didn’t die when the death curse rebounded of me and hit him. With every Horcrux, he split the soul he had left in half, and eventually went insane, we can only be happy that in this condition he also couldn’t utilize his complete magical strength._

_Why am I telling you this? Because I gave them back. I found a way to merge the five horcruxes and send them to him. In this moment the soul fragments should merge with the one in his body, making him sane again, at least I hope so._

_But he is still not mortal. Sometime during the Summer of the Quidditch world cup he made another Horcrux: Nagini. I don’t know how this effected the snake, but I couldn’t remove the soul piece in her. First, because she is always at his side, it would have been too obvious what_ _I was doing and_ _second, because she is a living being with her_ _own_ _soul, therefore_ _the soul fragment is more tightly anchored/intertwined than the ones in the inanimate objects. To g_ _et rid of this Horcrux, Nagini must be killed, because to destroy a Horcrux the object containing the soul fragment must be damaged to a point beyond any and all physical or magical repair_. _Then, and_ _only then, will_ _Voldemort be mortal again._

_But I recommend checking on Voldemort first. I know you are a dark wizard and I know that dark doesn’t equal evil._

_Yes, I know, shocking, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor doesn’t equate dark with evil._

_I even approve of some of the points in his agenda. So, if he is sane again, and back on track with his original goals, one of them the fight for the use of Dark Arts, I am sure you would be on his side, if you have the opportunity to choose and that’s the reason I am writing this to you. Dumbledore would either send you to kill Nagini and me to kill Voldemort outright, or he will try to manipulate a confrontation. He may be one of the greatest wizards alive, and I respect him, but I am not blind to his manipulations._

_So please, go to Voldemort. Check if the merging was successful, at least. If he is sane again, he can be reasoned with. I really don’t want to be a murderer because of a prophecy. If you need a bargaining chip_ _, here is the whole thing:_

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...

born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...

and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...

and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...

the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

_I don’t think I have to fulfil it, because I already vanquished him as a baby. I already sent him a letter. Could be that he is in a piss poor mood because of it, but hey, I never said I would play nice…._

_Now, you will ask yourself how I know all of this. It is actually quite simple. On Halloween 1981, when Voldemort murdered my parents and tried to murder me, his already damaged soul split again and the soul piece_ _attached itself_ _to the only living being it could find – me, making me a Horcrux. Because he couldn’t perform the ritual and the spell afterwards, though, I’m not a complete one, and the soul piece in me is more a parasitic fragment_ _._

_Over the last months, I used the soul connection between us and the other Horcruxes to find out everything I could (having easy access to his mind helped_ _, I only had to be sneaky). I used the connection to gather the pieces of his soul and send them to him._

_In the next days I will attempt to destroy the fragment in me so that he only has Nagini left as a security net. I will tell Dumbledore in a letter what I did, but not all the details_ _I told you, and not my position concerning_ _some points in Voldemort’s agenda. And I will tell one more person, no one too obvious, everything, even some stuff I didn’t tell you. Use this and the prophecy to get Voldemort to hear you out._

_I wish you all the best, Professor._

_Goodbye,_

_Harry Potter._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Please review and let me know what you think.
> 
> Thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.
> 
> First published: 19th of March 2018  
> Last edited: 23th of October 2018


	4. Severus Snape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nope, my name is still not Rowling, so nothing is mine.
> 
> **AN:** I am not sure if I will update frequently, but I will do my best, but theoretically (and poor me also practically) I have a PhD thesis to write and finish. It was quite hard to write this chapter, as Snape is not an easy character and I hope he is not to OOC. 
> 
> If someone wants to read a letter to a specific character, let me know and I will try to fit it into the story. 
> 
> Many thanks to all you reviewed, followed and favoured, it makes me crazily happy to see that people are interested in what I write.
> 
> This chapter is now beta’ed, by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness (FFN).
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story**

 

Severus Snape didn’t know what he should think or feel… No, it was more that he felt too many emotions at once, the most prominent of which were confusion and irritation. He looked down at the crumpled letter in his hand, eyes scanning the paragraphs. The first parts shocked him. Was this real? Had Potter really apologised? Should he believe it? No, never! A Potter apologising to a Snape, a Gryffindor to a Slytherin? His shock changed to anger. Potter only wanted to mock him, he was sure.

The next paragraph fuelled his anger into absolute fury. How _dare_ he accuse Severus of not being able to separate the prat from his father! It was clear as day that he was **entirely** like James Potter, strutting around arrogantly …Severus paused, one sentence catching his eye and taking his breath away, bringing up memories tainted by fury and shame he wished he could forget.

_You went from being bullied to being the bully._

Potter saw him as a bully.

After his childhood and what had happened in Hogwarts with the Marauders, he never wanted to be associated with anything similar to bullying. But here, _Potter_ of all people, accused him of being a bully. Yes, he was meaner to the other houses, but his Slytherins were scorned, especially by the Gryffindors and someone had to bring down the boy a peg or two.

Anger came up again, eyes reading over the next paragraphs, his brain took a moment to catch up to itself…...

Severus had been accused of being many things, most of them true, but he was anything but stupid. Even with his exceptional intelligence, though, it took a few minutes for clarity to find him. He never had thought of the prat as _Harry_ Potter, only ever as Potter, which was always associated in his mind with _James_ Potter. This moment of clarity opened his mind to a flood of memories. With all his skills as an accomplished Occlumens, Severus took hold of his emotions and brought up his shields.

Perhaps some of the boy’s accusations were not completely farfetched. Yes, the boy had never met his father, but surely someone had told him all about the glorious Gryffindor….

_How could I behave like him if I never knew him, never heard of him before my eleventh birthday?_

Severus snorted contemptuously, the prat didn’t think he would believe this lie, did he? Why should the boy-who-lived never have heard of his father before he was eleven? Surely his loving and adoring family would have told him all about his heroic parents. With whom had Dumbledore left him again? Because of the blood protections it couldn’t have been someone from the Potter side, even if there were still some left. So, the only one left was….

Severus paused again…a memory surfaced of two little girls, memories he had buried so deep he had practically forgotten them. Guilt and shame tried to destroy his hold on his emotions.

Lily…

 

And then he remembered Petunia, Lily’s older sister, her jealousy and disgust upon discovering that Lily was a witch. How spiteful and vicious she had been after Lily went to Hogwarts. Had the boy grown up with Petunia? She was the only one left, but she hated everything magical. Dumbledore wouldn’t… or would he?

Mentally shaking his head, Severus went back to reading the letter again. It was not important how the boy had grown up. Yes, he could admit to being cruel to the boy and that he mostly saw his father in him, but he was still sure that his assessment of the boy’s character so far had been right. He was arrogant, strutted around like he owned the castle, behaved like he was above the rules and better than everybody, flaunted his celebrity status and showed disrespect to adults. Someone had to bring him down a peg or two, someone had to show him that not all people will fall over for him.

Yet, there was a tingle of uncertainty left in Severus and even a little guilt as he read again how he made Potter ashamed of his own father. He knew that feeling, Tobias was never a father he could have been proud of, and for a child that was something awful to feel about his own father.

He quickly went back to reading, shoving his memories of his own father behind thick shields.

_nobody would consider me spoilt if they knew of my home life._

There it was again, that tingle of unease. Severus tried to banish it to the back of his mind. It had nothing to do with him.

Reading about the Horcruxes made him want to vomit. He had heard how brilliant the Dark Lord had been once. He only had glimpsed it a few times himself though, before the Dark Lord had fallen to insanity and begun to wage a war. If what the boy wrote was true, it was his Lords own fault he’d gone insane and he’d started on the path at sixteen. Why? Because of a simple fear of death? There would have been other ways to prevent dying. And the boy gave them back? The boy himself was a Horcrux? So, he had to die to get rid of the Dark Lord once and for all, did Dumbledore know? Severus was not entirely sure, but normally not much went on without the Headmaster knowing. Did he _want_ the boy to die? Had he raised his Golden Boy like a lamb for the slaughter?

Nausea was rising, when the picture of another pair of green eyes, dulled by death, hovered in his mind. Would the last remains of Lily vanish while he sat by and did nothing?

Severus drew a deep breath.

But if the Dark Lord was sane again, had his full magical and intellectual capacity back, could he be persuaded to let the boy live? The one responsible for his downfall, but also the one to restore his sanity? Perhaps if the boy decided to be neutral... Would it be enough for the Dark Lord?

And what would it mean for Severus? Potter had given him in this letter everything he needed to either destroy the Dark Lord forever or go back to the Dark faction. He had never completely belonged to the Light, his magic was inclined more to the grey and dark parts of magic, and the original goals were the reasons Severus joined the Dark Lord. His dreams of equal rights to all branches of magic- light, grey and dark. A lot of useful potions had been banned, because they were considered dark. Rituals and traditions banned and lost. So much knowledge buried and destroyed…

How would it be to stand on the side of a sane Dark Lord, fighting for these goals, not on a war field, but on the political battlefield, with wit, manipulations and subtlety? The way a true Slytherin would do it…

Lucius’ father had told them how charming and convincing the Dark Lord had been once, combined with a brilliant mind, he could accomplish more that way than with an all-out war.

Before he dared to get his hopes up, though, he should see his Lord as the boy suggested and verify if he had his sanity back and the merging had been successful. If not, he had to talk to Dumbledore and try to plan what to do with the last two Horcruxes, Nagini and Potter himself.

It was strange how accurate Potters assumption of Severus’ decisions were. He even agreed with his presumption about Dumbledore. So, the boy was not blind to the headmaster’s manipulations, who would have guessed…

And to give him the whole prophecy as a bargaining chip was quite a brilliant move on the boy’s part. The Dark Lord was obsessed with hearing the whole one. Reading it made Severus blood freeze in his veins. If he only had heard it in its entirety the first time. It was clearly a sell-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps the Dark Lord had been cautious and had waited to see which child would have been the bigger threat, but with his Lord so deteriorated into insanity at this time, Severus was not sure if the Dark Lord had chosen another course of action.

Severus sighed, there was no reason to cry over spilled milk.

_In the next days I will attempt to destroy the fragment in me_

Severus frowned. Something in this sentence gave him an itch, like he knew the conclusion to a puzzle, but couldn’t remember it.

_And I will tell one more person, no one too obvious,_

Another ingenious idea, to have a backup. It was a rather Slytherin move, Severus shuddered. The thought of ANY Potter having enough of a brain to think and plan in a Slytherin way was disturbing.

Who would the boy tell? No one obvious, so the rest of the Golden Trio was out of the picture. Some of the other Members of the Weasley family? No, still too obvious of a choice. As well as some of his friends in Gryffindor. Perhaps the Lovegood child, she had stood by him in the last school year and fought by his side in the Ministry. Still too obvious…so someone Potter didn’t associate with on a daily basis…

Severus stopped his musing, he had better things to do. He looked at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It was midday. He had been sitting here for hours and thinking about this blasted letter.

He stood up, made himself a cup of tea, sipping it slowly while trying to decide what to do next. But even with his occlumency shields on full force his thoughts and emotions were in turmoil, it was never a good idea to make important decision in such a state of mind. He needed to calm down. So, Severus went and did what he always did to get his mind off things, he opened the door to his potions lab and started brewing.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke from a wonderful and relaxing nap. He blinked, stretched and put his glasses on. A quick glance confirmed that Hedwig was still out. The sun was high, somewhere around noon, looking around his room, Harry sighed. There was nothing to do. He had written all the letters to everybody he could think of. He only could wait for the aftermath of the first letters and the soul merging.

A quick visit into his mindscape showed him that the connection with Voldemort was still shut down. The string connecting them was much thicker than before, not surprising considering Harry had sent him the main part of his soul back. He carefully prodded the string, trying to listen and feel what was happening at the other end. As Voldemort was probably still unconscious, there wasn’t much. Harry wasn’t sure what a newly merged soul should feel like, but the soul at the other end felt warmer- a little like a wound in process of healing- and much stronger. He would have to wait and see what happened when Voldemort woke up.

Coming out of his mind, Harry rubbed his eyes, took a sip from a water bottle and lay down again. The house was blissfully quiet, and even if he would have preferred not to be locked in his room, he was happy to have a few Dursley free days. Perhaps he should do his summer homework. After another nap, Harry thought while closing his eyes, drifting back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere in Scotland, a snowy white owl reached a magnificent old castle and circled around one of the towers. One window was open, and she flew into the circular room beyond it. Nobody occupied the office in the moment, so she landed on the enormous, claw-footed desk, leaving the letter addressed to

_Professor Albus Dumbledore_

Behind, and left through the open window again. Deciding on a short break, Hedwig flew to the owlery for some food and water and a short nap. A few hours later, well rested, she was soaring through the sky again, towards the recipient of the last letter she carried.

 

* * *

 

Brewing had calmed his mind, making it easier to decide what he should do. So, in the early afternoon, Severus Snape climbed out of the fireplace reserved for family and close friends at Malfoy Manor. No one was in the reception room, but he was sure Lucius would be here any minute, alerted by the wards of his arrival. Nobody could use this fireplace who wasn’t allowed and as Narcissa, Lucius and Draco were at the Manor, only a handful of possible people remained.

The door opened, and Lucius strode inside, pausing as he saw Severus and smiled.

“Severus, to what do we owe the honour of your presence?” Lucius gave a short bow and gestured for Severus to follow him. Walking beside one of the few people Severus would call a friend, even if never out loud, he mused how he should approach the subject.

“How is our Lord today?” Severus asked calmly. Lucius went stiff but didn’t falter in his steps. Since the Battle in the Ministry their Lord was in a particularly violent and malicious temper and had only gotten Lucius out of Azkaban after a short week to punish him for his failure to retrieve the prophecy as he saw fit. Lucius had only survived the punishment because of Narcissa’s and Rabastan’s profound knowledge and skills in magical healing.

“The last time I saw our Lord was yesterday. The wards around his wing are up, so it seems he does not wish to be disturbed.” Lucius answered steadily.

“But he is still in the manor?”

“Yes, the house-elves assigned to him didn’t mentioned that he left, and the wards didn’t report someone leaving. He should be in his study.”

“Good, I have to talk to you and Narcissa.”

Now Lucius glanced at him sideways, trying to read Severus expression, which was carefully blank. “She is in the summer tea room.”

For a few minutes they walked silently side by side.

“Do I have to send Narcissa and Draco to the safe house?” Lucius questioned softly, voice nearly a whisper.

 “Not at this exact moment in time,” Severus reassured him. “But I’ve acquired some… interesting information. As I have made up my mind how I would proceed, I am not completely willing to take the burden for this decision alone, so I am in need of a second opinion from someone I completely trust. Even, so I am sure you will try to use the information for your own gain, you will think of your family first and decide accordingly.”

Lucius hummed in acknowledgement and opened the door at the end of the hall for Severus to step through.

The summer tea room was painted in soft pastel colours, bathed in sunlight from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows which were all open to let in a soft breeze, and filled with plants and flowers of all kinds. In the far corner was a round table, covered with cakes, pastries and a steaming teapot, and encircled by four chairs. Narcissa sat on one of the chairs reading a book and sipping occasionally from her cup. She looked up from her reading as the both men approached the table, a small smile softening her aristocratic, pale features and warming her pale blue eyes. She stood up and greeted Severus with a soft peck on the cheek.

“What a pleasant surprise to see you today, Severus. I hope you are well?” She enquired while gesturing for him to sit down. A house-elf appeared and set teacups in front of Lucius and Severus. Narcissa poured the tea, sat down and looked at him questioningly.

Severus took a sip from his tea and steeled himself for the upcoming discussion.

“This morning I came across information which could mean the end for this war. In favour of either of the sides…

 

* * *

 

It was in the late afternoon when Harry woke from his nap. He fumbled for his glasses, yawned and ran his fingers through his hair, which was already sticking up in all directions, making it even messier, not that anybody could see it. He felt well rested and but a little bored. Still nothing more to do than wait.

Minding his back, Harry got up from his bed and removed his tee, inspecting the welts and cuts in the old, slightly broken mirror in his wardrobe. He winced and sighed, Vernon really hadn’t held back this time. His back was a mangled mess of crusted wounds, deep red cuts and bruises in every possible shade, but at least nothing was open or bleeding, and it didn’t look like anything was infected.

Harry sighed and pulled his tee on again, then settled on the floor and got some food from under the loose floorboard, savouring every bite and the feeling of a full stomach.

Searching for something to do, Harry looked through the pile of schoolbooks he had got from his school trunk the second night he had been back from Hogwarts. The Dursleys had been away for dinner and Harry had been locked in his bedroom as usual, but Vernon had only used the normal door lock and after the rescue during the summer before second year, the twins had showed Harry how to pick a lock. So, Harry had crept down to his old cupboard, picked the lock and grabbed what he could: quills, ink, parchment, a few schoolbooks, his wand, the invisibility cloak, his firebolt and the photo album with the pictures of his parents. Thank Merlin, Vernon never checked the cupboard and didn’t look under Harry’s bed, because the schoolbooks really didn’t fit under the floor.

Taking out his Potions book, Harry got comfortable on his bed. He chuckled as he tried to imagine Snape’s face if he ever found Harry reading a book about Potions for fun – or in this case, out of sheer boredom. Settling down, Harry started reading.

 

* * *

 

“Are you trying to tell me that our Lord found a way to secure his immortality and performed the required rituals without knowing the consequences, which led to insanity, magical and emotional instability, and blocking of the magical core?” Narcissa looked shocked, her fair complexion paling even more than usual. Lucius looked close to throwing up. Both fixed him with wide, horrified eyes, nearly pleading with him to tell him it was all a joke – a terrible joke.

“Yes, that sums it up quite nicely.” Severus sighed.

“And most of these… live anchors, which you don’t want to tell us what exactly they are, are destroyed?” Lucius inquired.

“Yes, only two are left. An attempt to destroy one more will be done shortly. And I know exactly where the last one is. And I have the means to destroy it.”

“But….?” Lucius looked at his friend.

“If the information I got is correct, it could be that the destruction of nearly all of these anchors undid the damage to our Lords mind and magic. There is a high possibility that our Lord is sane again and has his magical strength back. But I am sure he will be none too pleased if all of them are destroyed, even if he is in his right mind again.”

Lucius and Narcissa shared a brief look.

“So, what do you think? Should I destroy the last anchor, make the Dark Lord mortal and therefore give Dumbledore the possibility to defeat him once and for all? Or should I leave the anchor alone for now, in the hope that the Dark Lord is sane again and stops this meaningless killing and destruction.” Severus took a sip of his tea.

“Both decisions could go terribly wrong….” For some time only silence filled the room. Then Narcissa took his hand and fixed him with a determined glare.

“Severus, you have a brilliant mind, and, in most situations, you can overrule your own emotions and make the logical choice. I am sure whatever decision you came to, we would approve. As I see it, the war must be stopped, too many magical lives were lost already, but we shouldn’t lose sight of our own desires and aspirations. Yes, if the situation remains as it is now, Dumbledore and the Light side would be the better choice, and it would be your duty to end the bloodshed as fast as possible. But if the Dark Lord really is sane again, our side has a chance. A chance to survive without giving up our ways, without repression, without the need to deny our nature. Abraxas told us how it was in the beginning. How brilliant and powerful he was, how devoted and determined, before he changed and started the war. If there is even a slight possibility that this could be true, you must confirm it. You should seek out our Lord and gauge his sanity.” Narcissa let go of his hand, leaned back into her chair and kept eye contact.

“Thank you.” Severus set down his teacup, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted now that Narcissa and Lucius had come to the same conclusion as him.

“Lucius would you accompany me to our Lord?” Severus stood up and waited.

Narcissa and Lucius had a silent conversation, then Lucius gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and rose from his chair. “Certainly, my friend.”

Severus gave Narcissa a last nod and walked, with Lucius at his side, out of the room. Neither spoke a word as they walked through the manor. They stopped shortly as Lucius had to dismantle the wards around the wing the Dark Lord had chosen, which was only possible because Lucius was the master of the manor. Before they reached the door of the study, Severus took a deep breath. Bringing up his occlumency shield at full force, shifting his expression into one of absolute neutrality, he knocked at the door.

There was no answer. Even after a second louder knock, so Severus opened the door carefully. If the Dark Lord remained as he was, entering his study without invitation would be a death sentence, but as no dark curse came flying, Severus entered the room, Lucius directly behind him.

At first glance, the room looked empty, save Nagini sleeping in front of the smouldering fire. Then they saw a figure in one of the armchairs and approached it.

Both men gasped at what they saw. It was certainly the Dark Lord, but his features had changed since the last time they saw him. He still looked thin, but not unnaturally skeletal, and a thin layer of dark curls was visible atop his head. They couldn’t say if his eyes had changed, because he seemed to be unconscious, but he had the base of a nose and his nostrils were round, not slits anymore. All in all, he had lost his snake-like features and looked nearly human again.

Severus and Lucius looked at each other in astonishment and shock and a little hope.

So, the splitting of his soul had also disfigured him, mused Severus, but it seemed not everything was changed back due to the soul merging. Severus wasn’t sure if it was because two soul pieces were missing, or if Pettigrew had butchered the resurrection potion two summers ago. It intrigued him and perhaps, with his Lord’s permission, he could try and find a solution to reverse the effects.

Carefully, Severus stepped nearer. The Dark Lord’s breathing was deep and steady, and he didn’t stir as Severus quietly called out to him so, he picked one of his hands up and checked for a pulse. Satisfied to find it strong and regular, Severus cast a simple diagnostic charm. Nothing seemed amiss, so he levitated the Dark Lord out of the armchair and moved him to one of the settees, which Lucius had transfigured into a bed. Both men settled into armchairs, waiting for their Lord to awaken, and grasping to the slightest glimmers of hope.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading, please review and let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.
> 
> First published: 4th of April 2018  
> Last edited: 29th of October 2018


	5. Sane again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. Everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I only want to play in her playground a little bit.
> 
> **AN:** Who would have thought that the letter to Dumbledore would be this hard to write? I tried not to be too accusing, I don’t want to write a Dumbledore bashing story, he will not be the bad guy. 
> 
> Many thanks to all of you who commented, bookmarked, subscribed and left kudos, you guys are the best. Your comments made me grin happily for hours.
> 
> If someone wants to read a letter to a specific character, let me know and I will try to fit it into the story.
> 
> This chapter is now beta'ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness (FFN), many thanks for that.
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

The first thing to register in his foggy mind was that he was feeling warm. This revelation seemed to open the path for more. He could feel his body, which felt heavy and itchy, especially around his head. Then the pain surfaced, centred around his chest and spread throughout his body. He groaned as a pounding headache split his head nearly in two. Somewhere nearby he heard the rustling of clothing. So, he was not alone. What had happened? He remembered the feeling of fury and anger dominating his thoughts and actions for a long time, his mind so foggy that no other emotion could have pierced through it. Then something about a letter…he couldn’t recall what the contents of the letter had been…who had send it? Had the letter been cursed? No, he was sure he would have detected a curse. But he felt different, his mind clear and his emotions calmer.

“My Lord?” A cautious voice whispered…who was it?

The splitting headache prevented every attempt to identify the voice, he groaned again.

“Are you in pain, my Lord?” The voice asked. “I have a pain-reliever here.”

Ah…

Someone carefully lifted his head, he could feel the cold glass of a vial against his lips and then a cold liquid was poured into his mouth. The pain diminished almost immediately, fading to a light throb. Sighing silently, Voldemort opened his eyes, giving them a few moments to adjust to the light, then sat up and focused on the two men in his study. Severus and Lucius both kneeled in front of him, heads bowed, waiting. He could see the tension from the way they held their bodies, the stiff necks, the carefully controlled breathing. Why were they so tense? They were waiting for something, but what? Puzzled he looked around, his gaze fell on a piece of parchment on the table…something clicked in his mind and a flood of memories crashed into him.

The letter from Potter… the boy, a horcrux… the possible consequences of splitting his soul… and then the pain…

The fog in his mind lifted. As hard as it was to admit, the boy had been right. He had spiralled into insanity… he blanched as he remembered in horrendous details his erratic behaviour since his third, perhaps even second horcrux, and the numbness of his emotions after he created the diary at sixteen, which were now swirling inside him, uncontrollably. Shame and fury at his own stupidity, guilt when he thought about what he had done, but also delight in having his mind and magical power back.

He sneered, he could have done without the emotions coming back to him, so he brought up his Occlumency shields, putting all emotions behind them. Now was not the time to sort them out.

How stupid he had been, how foolish and arrogant. He would need time to sort through his memories and see what he had done. Did he really start a war? Spilling irreplaceable magical blood? How pointless. He wouldn’t achieve anything this way. Thank Merlin he had his mind back, he sighed, it seemed he owed the Potter boy a debt. Whatever he had done, it had been effective. He tried to remember what Potter had written in the letter… giving him back his soul…

He nearly forgot to breath out of shock. Potter undid his horcruxes, without destroying the soul parts once and for all, and somehow, he had sent them to him.

Yes…

He could feel the warm humming of his soul. It felt complete, but one look inside himself showed him that he still was connected to Nagini and Potter. So, he had two Horcruxes left, and they were the smallest pieces, he had nearly all his soul back.

How had the boy done this?

Sighing, because now was not the moment to unravel this puzzle, he shifted his focus to the buzz of his magic.

Oh…

How had he not realized how much he had lost…? He couldn’t remember when he had felt so alive, so full of magic. It swirled under his skin, begging to be used. The feeling of unadulterated power made him dizzy.

What else had changed? He remembered his looks after the resurrection. Had the disfigured snake-like appearance been a consequence of the horcruxes, or of the ritual he had used?

Wandless and wordless he tried summoning a hand mirror. He wasn’t prepared to feel the pure joy of his freed magic jumping to the task, overwhelming him. Instead of a hand mirror, a large full-body mirror appeared.  He stared, dumbfounded, it seemed he really needed to practice wielding the sheer amount of his magic.

Then he stood to examine his appearance. He didn’t look like a skeleton anymore, though he was still tall and thin. He’d lost the snake-like features and the deathly pale colour. He had lips and a nose! Fine, the beginning of a nose, the bridge was visible, and the nostrils weren’t slit like anymore… and hair, he’d grown hair again! It was only a fuzz of dark brown curls on top of his head, but it would grow further.

He still had deep red eyes, but he rather liked the darker tones in his iris.

He nearly looked like an older version of Tom Riddle again, the boy he once was. Even if he didn’t like the name, he would enjoy looking handsome and charming again.

Carefully he touched his skin. It felt cold and dry, a little like snakeskin.  He would have to talk with Severus to see if there was a possibility of finding a potion to give him back his complete nose and normal skin. Perhaps Pettigrew had butchered the potion at the resurrection ritual. He vanished the mirror and looked at the two, still kneeling men.

“Rise.”

He scrutinized them as they stood. What had brought them to him? He hadn’t summoned them through the dark mark, and he was sure that he had ordered to be left alone.

He could practically fell the nervousness coming from Lucius and Severus, even if their masks were very firmly in place, showing nothing on the surface. Neither had spoken a word or met his eyes. Narrowing his eyes, he looked through everything that had happened since yesterday, everything came back to the letter. Then realization hit him.

“Am I correct in assuming that one of you got a letter from the Potter boy, which contained critical information, leading you both to seek me out?” He asked calmly.

He caught a flicker of surprise and something deep and complex, in Severus eyes. A day ago, he would never have caught it, let alone recognized it.

“Yes, my Lord,” Snape nodded.

He sat himself in one of the armchairs and indicated for them to sit across from him. Leaning back, crossing one leg over the other

“In the early morning I also got a letter from the boy. The contents were… interesting. So, speak. What is the reason for your visit? What did Potter tell you?” His dark red eyes stared into Severus’ black ones expectantly.

 

* * *

 

Severus composed himself and brought up his mental shields. It would be stupid to lay all the cards on the table. So far, the Dark Lord seemed to be calmer and saner, almost human as he examined himself in the mirror, but even a sane Dark Lord was still a Dark Lord, and from the story Abraxas had told them, he had been the ultimate Slytherin- brilliant, cunning, resourceful, ambitious and determined. So, he would have to step carefully. As he had been missing most of his soul for the bigger part of his life, there was no possible way to determine at the moment how it had affected him.

In all honesty, they didn’t know this man before them. Had there been something of the charming Slytherin in Lord Voldemort? Was something of the insane, megalomaniac tyrant left? How much of his homicidal, sadistic nature had come from splitting his soul and not from his own character?

Severus chose his words carefully, explaining in a neutral voice, leaving out the apology and the accusations. “Potter told me about the means you used, my Lord, to ensure your immortality. He explained what Horcruxes are, how they are created and the consequences of the creation of one. He told me that you created your first one at the age of sixteen, and how many you have in total. He wrote about being a Horcrux himself and that Nagini was the last one you created. Somehow, he found a way to remove the soul pieces from their containers- except from himself and Nagini, merge them and send them to you.” The hope Severus had felt the moment the Dark Lord had opened his eyes and hadn’t immediately crucioed them, flared up again, as he saw emotions other than anger and fury crossing over the Dark Lords face. First, he had seen fear, as Severus told him his Horcrux were undone, but then there had been hope and delight at the thought of having two Horcruxes left, one of those his snake. His Lord had never displayed positive emotions before- apart from sadistic glee. It was a good sign.

“By what means he didn’t elaborate in detail, he only hinted that he could tap into the connection between the soul piece in himself and the one in your body,” Severus continued “He then suggested that I seek you out and check if the merging was successful. He assumed that with a nearly whole soul you should have your sanity back, as well as the whole potential of your magic.”

“And why would Potter, Dumbledore’s golden boy, send _you_ this letter? Why not tell his beloved Headmaster?” The Dark Lord questioned.

“It seems that Potter is not completely blind to the headmaster’s manipulations and does not wish to be a murderer. He assumed that I, as a Dark Wizard myself, would be more inclined to verify your sanity and not use the obtained information instantly against you, my Lord. He even indicated that your original agenda could be something he would support.”

“Sounds like the golden boy is not so golden as Dumbledore portrays. Perhaps he even could be lured to our side”. The Dark Lord mused.

“To my understanding, my Lord, it sounds more like Potter wants to be left alone. That he would remain neutral.” Severus suggested.

“That would agree with his statement that the letter would be the last time I would hear from him. He even said straightforwardly he would not care or interfere with my plans.” Here the Dark Lord sounded almost bewildered. “If this were true, I wouldn’t have a problem with leaving him alone, as long as I’m sure he is safe, especially against Dumbledore. The boy is my Horcrux and I want my soul piece to be protected.”

Something which felt strangely like relief bloomed in Severus. If the boy stayed out of the way and neutral and the Dark Lord really left him alone, Severus could not only uphold his oath to protect him but could also follow his own ambitions and desires as a Dark Wizard. He was not sure if he should share at this point, that Potter was going to try to destroy the soul piece in himself. He decided against it, at least for the moment. Perhaps they could reason with Potter, it seemed like he wasn’t a complete dunderhead, to let it stay where it was. As long as he was a Horcrux, he was valuable and precious to the Dark Lord- giving him protection. He needed to contact Potter in the next days, before he tried to destroy the soul piece in himself.

“It seems like Potter wants to tie up all loose ends. He told me he would give Dumbledore some information and he hinted that he would tell another person, who he didn’t name, everything, so that apart from himself there would be one person out there holding the complete knowledge,” Severus elaborated.

The Dark Lord looked pensively had him. He knew why Severus told him this, it was clear in his expression. Even if he were to kill Severus and Lucius now, to cover everything up, there was a person out there beside Potter who had all the knowledge. It was quite a daring Slytherin move of the boy, but by now not even Severus was sure if Potter really was purely Gryffindor.

“It seems we have a lot of information to process. We will continue this tomorrow morning, be here after breakfast. You are dismissed.” The Dark Lord told them brusquely.

Severus and Lucius stood. The Dark Lord closed his eyes and sank back against the armchair. Severus took a pain-reliever potion from his pocket and put it on the table. He had seen the signs of a headache forming, and a slight shaking of the hands, the previous pain-reliever had stopped working. Then he left and closed the door silently behind him.

Lucius, who hadn’t said a word during the whole conversation, waited in the corridor and escorted him to the fireplace open to the floo network.

“Send my regards to Narcissa. I will be here tomorrow morning at seven sharp.” Severus stepped into the fireplace and shouted out his destination. The expression he saw in Lucius eyes when he looked at him before he was whisked away, mirrored his own: hope.

 

* * *

 

Voldemort downed the potion as soon as the door closed behind the two wizards. The headache which had been building up during the conversation subdued, he sighed in relief. It was too much, too much information, too many new - at least for him - emotions.

He needed rest. He took up the letter from Potter, folded it and left his study, making his way directly to his bedroom. Removing only his outer cloak, he climbed into the bed, putting the letter on the bedside table. He would sleep, then eat and drink a nice strong coffee and then he would read the letter again. He was sure, after some needed rest, and with his newfound sanity, some things would make more sense.

 

* * *

 

At Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore walked humming through the old stone corridors. So far, the day had been going fairly well, surprisingly the _Daily Prophet_ mentioned him only twice today, and the rest of the day Albus had inspected the school with Minerva. Now, in the late afternoon, he was on the way to his office, hoping for a nice cup of tea. The gargoyle stepped aside as he approached, and Dumbledore took the moving staircases to his office. Mentally planning what he had to do the next day, he opened his office door and stepped inside. As he called for a house elf and ordered some tea, he discovered a letter laying innocently on his desk. He couldn’t remember putting it there himself, so it must have arrived sometime during the day. It was simply addressed to

_Professor Albus Dumbledore_

In a vaguely familiar scrawl.

Albus sat down, frowned and picked it up, studying the envelope, only to find that there was nothing to indicate its sender. Absentmindedly, he took his teacup as it arrived and took a sip, then carefully set the cup down and opened the letter. It was written in the same scrawl as the address and it didn’t take him long to recognize why the handwriting looked familiar, _Harry_ had written this letter. Puzzled, he began to read. Harry never wrote him personal letters. As he read on, wonder, a slight feeling of threat and mostly disbelief filled him.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_I’m sure you are wondering why I am writing to you and I think this will be as hard for you to read as it was for me to write._

_For the last five years I looked up to you as the powerful, wise and kind wizard you were. I still do, and perhaps I even feel something similar to familial love, but especially in a family you shouldn’t overlook the mistakes people make. I know that you have to see the bigger picture, that you can’t concentrate on every little life out there, but why would you give me the impression you care for me beyond the headmaster and student relationship, just to toss me aside when I needed you the most?_

_You are a great wizard, and especially because of this, your mistakes have far greater consequences, consequences you didn’t anticipate. Or perhaps you choose not to see your mistakes._

_Yes, you have a war to win and a dark, evil wizard to beat, but what you forgot in all your planning and manipulations are the feelings and behaviours of the people you are using like chess pieces. What you seemed to not realize is that you can’t anticipate every move, because you don’t know their inner feelings, on which they choose to act._

_I choose to act._

_I came across important information at the start of the summer. Information I know you already had- or at least suspected- but just as you did all the years before, you chose not to tell me, even though they concerned me the most. And what were the consequences? Your decision to keep everything to yourself got Sirius killed. I’m not putting all the blame for his death on you, but I’m also not blaming myself anymore._

_You are a great wizard, but you are still human, and humans make mistakes. You have to make the hard decisions and think of the bigger picture, the greater good. I know you can’t think only with your heart. I understand, but understanding doesn’t mean I have to accept it, or forgive you…_

_If you had explained to me that Voldemort could use the connection between us to spy on me and use me against you, I would have understood why you didn’t want to see me the last school year, and I wouldn’t have felt alone and abandoned. I would have understood that the visions Voldemort sent me were deliberate and that he was trying to set a trap. Sirius could be still alive._

_But, you didn’t explain. You left me alone with my anger and rage, the terrifying visions and dreams. Instead of helping me, you sent Snape to teach me Occlumency. You gave the teacher who hates me and belittles me on a regular basis free access to my mind. Every lesson I had to attend was torture and, in the end, he failed, leaving me even more open for the dreams and visions._

_The worst mistake though the last school year was how you let the Ministry into Hogwarts. You are the headmaster, your first priority should be the safety and welfare of your students, but Umbridge had free reign and she abused her power whenever she could. Did you know she used a blood-quill in her detentions? There is more than one student with permanent scars on their hand. You obsessed over Voldemort and lost sight of other important things, like the people you have to lead._

_And did you really think it was a good idea to tell a fifteen-year-old boy who had lost his godfather- the only living adult who had loved him without restraint, not even an hour earlier, that the most powerful dark wizard was after him, and had been for his entire life? That everything that had happened was because of him? That there had been a prophecy around the whole time and that, at the end of the day, he would either be dead or a murderer?_

_And what did you do after you told me this particular piece of information? You sent me back to the Dursleys, isolating me there with no one to help me in my grief. Do you even know what happens here behind closed door? I hope not, but I fear that you do. You said that you knew you had condemned me for ten dark years when you left me there. You did what was easy, not what was right. It was easy leaving me there and never looking back. Again, a mistake which cost me, not you._

_Still, I understand why you did it. At that moment you were not a headmaster, you were the leader in a war, and you had this baby, destined to end it once and for all. You knew Voldemort would be coming back and that the magic of my mum’s sacrifice would be the best chance of survival for me when I had to face him again., b My mum’s sacrifice would have lived on in me, even if I had not grown up with my aunt, but you wanted to be sure and the blood wards you could activate were a perfect bonus. You could at least have checked on me, though._

_As angry and disappointed as I am with you, I know you really thought it would be the best course of actions then. You are never intentionally cruel. I understand, but I am not sure if I can forgive._

_Back to why I wrote this letter. I know that I am a Horcrux, I can only guess when and how you planned to tell me this little detail, and I know that there are more. I know that all Horcruxes must be destroyed before Voldemort can be killed. How did you planned to get rid of the one in me? Manipulating me to walk up to Voldemort freely and let him kill me? One life for thousands? One life for the greater good? The sick thing is, I would have, had I not found another way on my own._

_That’s another mistake you are constantly making, you don’t trust anybody. You never asked someone else for help, you just assumed the solutions you came up with were the only ones, the best ones._

_What would you have done? Sent me on a hunt to find the Horcruxes all over Britain? Did you even know what they were? Did you know how to destroy them?_

_It would have taken a long time; time Voldemort would have used to wage a war._

_So I chose to act on my own, and my solution was swift._

_I managed to collect the soul pieces and give them back to Voldemort. He should be sane again, what he does next doesn’t concern me. I think I did my duty to the Wizarding World, and I refuse to do more. Why should I? What did the Wizarding World ever do for me? One moment I’m their hero, the next one they scorn me and call me crazy. I will leave the rest to you, headmaster. You are much more suited for leading the people against Voldemort, if he is still a threat. I was merely a pawn and I did my duty and wounded the king._

_I don’t want to have anything to do with the war and Voldemort anymore. I am not even entirely sure that I will come back to Hogwarts. It was the first real home I had, but the people occupying it are as fickle as the rest of Wizarding Britain._

_Please don’t come visit me. You wanted to isolate me, then leave me in my isolation._

_I still love you like a grandchild, perhaps there lies the reason why your many mistakes which cost me so much, hurt me more than the insults from the population and the broken bones from my uncle. People we love can hurt us the most._

_Goodbye_

_Harry Potter._

 

* * *

 

Finally, Hedwig reached her destination. It was already dark, but a lot of the building’s windows were lit up. Following her instinct as a post owl, she circled around until she found the right window. It was closed, so she landed on the windowsill and tapped at the glass. Silence at the other side. She tapped again and heard footstep approach the window, which was opened. She didn’t enter the room but merely presented the letter tied to her leg to the one standing in front of her. Bewildered bright eyes looked at her, while gentle hands removed the letter from her.

“I recognize you, but why would he send a letter to _me?_ ”

Hedwig nipped at the finger in front of her gently, hooted, spread her wings and left. Behind her, the window closed. The bright eyes still stared at the letter, filled with astonishment, bafflement and suspicion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading, please review and let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 16th of April  
> Last edited: 29th of October


	6. The fourth letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. Everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I only want to play in her playground a little bit.
> 
> **AN:** Many thanks to all of you who commented and subscribed and left kudos, you guys are the best. Kudos to you all. Your comments made me grin happily for hours (I think my colleagues think I am mad – ok madder).
> 
> So, here is the next chapter, and finally we met the recipient of the fourth letter. It is the longest chapter so far, because of the long letter. In the previous chapters I showed the reactions to the letter in the next chapter, not while it was read. I tried it like this, this time too, but it didn’t feel right. So, you will get the first impressions of the reader in between the reading of the letter.
> 
> This chapter is now beta’ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness.
> 
> Have fun reading, I am really curious to hear what you think of it.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

In the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, Harry’s letter clutched in his hands. He had read it multiple times by now and still too many thoughts swirled around in his mind.

Had he really misinterpreted the situation so badly? How had Harry obtained this information, and why did he decide not to seek help? The letter confirmed some of his worst theories and Harry’s solution and explanation left him with more questions than answers.. Where had he made a mistake?  When had he strayed so far from the right path, losing sight of the people he wanted to protect most and when had the consequences of his mistakes led to _this_ **-** a child trusting no one to help him carry the burden? Had his choices pushed Harry to be so distrustful, leaving him to act alone?

Yes, he tended to think more like a General. He tried to make decisions based on what was best for the majority of the magical population in Great Britain, but he thought he kept an eye at least on the people dear to him, Harry being one of those people.

When had the pressure to be the leader and the tension of Tom’s return lead to him losing the sight of these people?

Albus Dumbledore was not above admitting his mistakes and he knew they often had greater consequences. He could not even deny the accusation that he used people like chess pieces.

As he looked back at his behaviour since Tom’s resurrection, he realized his failures, especially concerning Harry. How could he have been so short-sighted so as not to see that his attempt to protect him by distancing himself from the boy would look like abandonment from Harry’s side?

And what about the hint of his home life? Yes, the Dursley’s were not as loving as he had initially hoped, and they certainly did not spoil Harry, but surely, they cared for him in their own way? They were family, after all, at the end of the day, but the letter implied something different…

And if he had overlooked and misinterpreted Harry’s family situation, what else had he missed while focusing on the ‘bigger picture’?

His eyes roamed over the letter again. A Blood-quill?

Anger filled him as he read Harry’s account of his treatment under Umbridge’s tenure, anger and guilt. This was his fault. His fault and his mistake.  A mistake that had led to his students being hurt in the very halls where they should have felt safest. Why had Dolores thought it would be a good idea to use a torture method for detentions?

How had he not seen that the situation had been that bad? Oh, Dolores Umbridge would be ruined when he was finished with her. Nobody hurt his students like this.

His anger deflagrated instantly. His own actions had led to students being hurt at school, especially Harry. Why did it seem that all his good intentions regarding the boy always backfired?

He thought back to the conversation with Severus after the Pensieve incident during Occlumency lessons. Severus had told him that Harry had been arrogant and lazy, without any regard for the importance of the lesson. He had refused to continue and Albus had thought it would be too dangerous to take them up himself. Severus had been the only possible candidate to teach Harry Occlumency, the only one he had trusted enough.

In retrospect, Albus was not so sure. Perhaps he should have organized meditation lesson with Filius first. As a duelling champion he was capable of basic mediation and simple Occlumency shields. Why had not he thought about this half a year ago?

He’d heard how Severus treated Harry quite often over the years but had played it down. Yes, he had talked with Severus about Harry, assuring him that he was definitely not his father and that he should not judge him based on his heritage, but it had done nothing. He had downplayed Harry’s concerns and objections. Had he allowed Severus to abuse his authority as a teacher to get revenge for a teenage fight? Had his trust in Severus made him blind to his misconduct regarding Harry?

He had not even realized that the Occlumency lesson were not helping at all.

There had been so many things happening at once during that time, Harry’s visions, the attack on Arthur, the problems with the Ministry, his slander in the _Daily Prophet_ , his dismissal as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the sparse information of what Tom had been up to, his fear for Harry because of the connection with Tom and the prophecy.

Had it finally all been too much? Had his desire to give Harry a few more years without the looming knowledge of the prophecy been detrimental?

It seemed that his habit of keeping information to himself because for fear of betrayal, had led to Harry mistrusting him. He had made the same mistake again, he had overlooked a loved one while planning and the consequences had cost him.

Perhaps he should count himself lucky, he had not lost Harry completely as he had lost Ariana, only, so far, his trust.

Albus sighed and looked around his office, remembering how Harry had destroyed some of his trinkets in grief and fury. Harry, who had already lost some much. Perhaps he should have told him the prophecy earlier, but he couldn’t turn back the time. Analysing his actions regarding Harry made him realize that his whole handling of the boy had been full of mistakes. He would have to make amends this school year.

If Harry decided to come back…

 Perhaps he should go and visit him, try to make amends with the boy? But no, Harry had requested that he stay away, and he would respect that.

How had he thought that isolating Harry in the muggle world would help? He had thought Harry needed to grieve and that at Privet Drive, with his family, he would have the quiet environment, the time and the support to do so, so that he could come to terms with what had happened. A break from the pressure he was under in the magical world.

Another miscalculation on his part.

Albus was not sure if he could forgive himself at this moment, let alone if Harry could, but Harry had a far greater capacity for compassion and forgiveness than anyone else Dumbledore had ever known.

A testimonial of this was how he had handled the Horcruxes. Harry had found out on his own, but instead of destroying them completely, making his parents’ murderer mortal again and then destroying him, he gave them back. He gave Tom back what he had valued the most as a teenager, when he still was Albus’ student - his sanity, his brilliant mind and exceptional intelligence.

Albus could only wonder how Harry could have done that, he hoped he would tell him someday. He had read everything he could find about Horcruxes but had not come up with a solution for how to get rid of the one in Harry other than killing him. He had hoped that a killing curse from Tom himself would only kill the Horcrux, especially since he knew that Tom had used Harry’s blood in the resurrection ritual. He hypothesized that if someone who had the blood sacrifice running through his veins tried to kill the one the sacrifice wanted to protect, that the curse would be weakened and deflected. Therefore, if Tom were to try and kill Harry, the curse would only take the soul shard.

Albus read the letter again and sighed. All his mistakes led to a boy he dearly loved like a grandchild being hurt, not only by him, but by the whole magical world. A world Harry had already sacrificed so much for.

He was not sure what he should think about Tom being sane. Would he change enough? He had been a frightening, anti-social and arrogant child, had shown his ruthless and cruel nature very early. Albus paled with the thought of what a sane Tom could and would do.

They still needed to have an eye on him. If Tom stepped off the warpath and put an end to the violence, it would be hard to do something against him. If that wasn’t the case, though, he needed to be stopped, permanently, and the only one who could defeat him was Harry.

Harry, who said outright that he had done his duty, who wanted to be left alone.

A passage caught his eyes.

_I will leave the rest to you, headmaster. You are much more suited for leading the people against Voldemort, if he is still a threat. I was merely a pawn and I did my duty and wounded the king._

_I don’t want to have anything to do with the war and Voldemort anymore._ …

They needed Harry if Tom did not stop the violence, but would Harry even talk with him? Perhaps he should send a letter or an intermediary.

And he had to talk with Severus, he needed to know if Tom had summoned his Death Eater, perhaps he could even send Severus to check on Harry... no, it would lead to a disaster for both, not with their history. Perhaps Minerva or Remus?

Albus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, but the end of the letter was imprinted in his mind and the words ripped his heart apart.

A lone tear escaped the eyes of Albus Dumbledore void of their usual twinkle, as he sat in his office, trying to come to terms with what had happened. Burying his head in his hands, Albus whispered, “Oh Harry, what have I done?”

 

* * *

 

It was midnight when Harry woke to a soft rustle of feathers. Blinking, he recognized Hedwig landing at the headpost of his bed. She hooted softly at him.

“Hey girl. Had a safe trip?” Harry turned around and stroked her feathers fondly. “Glad to have you back. Ah, if only you could tell or show me his face as he realized I wrote _him_ a letter.” Harry snickered.

“Let’s sleep. Tomorrow I have some more letters. Sorry, that I am working you so hard. But only two more days. Two more days…” Harry yawned, closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

Hedwig combed his hair affectionately with her beak. She would watch over him for a few hours and then rest. Her wizard needed her.

 

* * *

 

A lot of strange things had already happened in Draco Malfoy’s life - things which had led to realizations about himself he often wished he did not have. That the famous Harry Potter had not wanted to be his friend, for example. It had been a hard lesson to learn, his father had always told him that what a Malfoy wanted, a Malfoy would get. And he wanted Harry Potter as a friend. And when he could not get this, he at least wanted his attention.

If he thought about it, a lot of things in his life were somehow connected with Harry bloody Potter.

In second year, he only wanted to play seeker so badly because of Potter.  Technically, chaser was his favourite position, but then he wouldn’t be able to compete directly with Potter. He wanted to see Potter’s face when he defeated him.

At the Duelling Club he thought he would finally get his chance to see Potter defeated at his feet, instead he had listen with envy Potter speak Parseltongue.

In third year he realized he liked the insults they traded and the reactions he got out of Potter when he mocked him. He looked forward to their confrontations and fights every day.

In fourth year, he had to admit that he had been a little afraid for him. Nobody could replace Potter, nobody was witty or stubborn enough to fight back against him. If Potter died in that stupid tournament, Draco would lose his only real entertainment.

He had begrudgingly admitted that he was impressed how Potter handled the first task. After the third task he was horrified, especially as he realized Potter had been tortured. His father had talked with his mother behind closed doors (not that a closed door could hinder Draco) and told her what had transpired after he had been summoned. Both had been terrified, afraid of a madman who tortured children, afraid for their own son as the Dark Lord resided in Malfoy Manor.

Fifth year had been the most horrible so far - especially for Potter. Draco had watched him struggle with anger and frustration, had tried to rile him up at every possible moment (which had not been as much fun as he anticipated, Potter had not quite been himself). He had seen the mood swings and the social isolation and had sneered at Gryffindors for their disloyalty. He had been a little concerned for Potter, he had looked tired, haunted and sometimes even hopeless. It had been obvious, but none of his friend had commented on it when he had pointed it out.

Instead, Pansy had told him to either stop obsessing over Potter or act on it. Blaise’s comment on the matter had been a simple “shag already!” The rest of his friends had stayed silent. Theo never voiced his opinion out loud, he would wait and see what transpired and then act if needed, Greg and Vince were mostly interested in food, and Daphne cooed at how sweet and romantic it was that he had been infatuated with the same guy since he was eleven - it was nauseating.

He was _not_ obsessed or infatuated with Potter!

He hated Potter. He hated that he was concerned for him. Hated that, even if he tried, he could not ignore the git. Hated how he wanted to be acknowledged by Potter. He hated how Potter always got under his skin and loved how he always got under Potter’s skin. He hated that he loved the challenge Potter posed. Hated that he loved it when Potter paid attention to him.  Yes, Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter with a deep passion.

But this, this was surely the strangest thing so far.

Sure, he had watched Potter and made sure that he at least paid him attention, however that attention came, but he would never have predicted Potter would write him a letter.

Draco had recognized the beautiful white owl immediately and had stared dumfounded for some seconds as it tapped against his window.

Now he sat on his bed, letter in hand, and he had to admit he was a little afraid to open it. He put the letter aside, called a house-elf and ordered some tea, wiping his sweating hands on his trousers while he waited. The elf arrived and Draco took the herbal tea gratefully, sipping slowly, trying to gather his nerves.  Then he picked up the letter again and opened it carefully. A thick pack of parchments emerged.

Draco unfolded them, confused, the first one had some writing on it, but the other ones seemed blank. Then he recognized the type of parchment - _Truth and Oath_ \- a specific kind of parchment used for negotiations. Everything written on this parchment was the truth as the writer believed it to be and you could embed a binding oath in it. It was very expensive and rarely used nowadays. But in the old times, every peace treaty had been written on _Truth and Oath_ parchment.

What was important enough for Potter to send him such a letter?

Draco put the blank pages aside and read the first one.

_Dear Draco_

_Is it okay if I call you Draco? I think after this letter you’ll know more of me than even Ron or Hermione, and that permits the first name basis, don’t you think?_

_I’m sure you’re wondering why I would send you a letter. We are not friends, we don’t like each other, we disagree on everything, and beside Quidditch we would never willingly spend time together. Nobody would suspect that I would share this with you of all people. Who would think that I would give you more ammunition, I mean, you are Draco Malfoy and I am Harry Potter. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor.   As a Slytherin, you are ambitious, clever, have a strong sense of self-preservation and, if you want to be, you can be quite cunning._

Draco felt slightly insulted. He was _always_ cunning, thank you very much.

_So, for me, you are the perfect choice._

_What I will tell you in this letter will give you excessive and marvellous blackmailing material, but I hope that, as a Slytherin, you won’t act on what I tell you without a plan and benefits for you. I am sure you won’t spill the beans, since if you did you would lose your blackmailing material._

_I take it you recognized the kind of parchment I used. Yes, you will have to swear an oath before you can read the actual letter, but no, I will not let you swear that you cannot use the information I am about to give you. I will only give you a limited time in which you cannot talk about the letter and what it details, after this everyone is fair game. And, because of the parchment, you know that everything I wrote is the truth, or the truth as I believe it. And why?_

_I came across crucial and dangerous information and used it.  I had to tell some people what I did, but not everyone needs to know every detail. If something happens to me, though, there will be no one who knows the whole story, the information would be lost and that would be fatal. So, with this letter I hope to use you as a safety net._

_If everything goes right, you never have to reveal what you know if you don’t want to. If not, well...._

_It is your decision. If you want to read the letter, swear the oath below. I assume you know what you have to do._

_Yours,_

_Harry Potter._

Draco stared shocked at the letter. He was also slightly giddy that Potter had decided to send _him_ this letter. It made him feel special and elated… oh Merlin, Pansy was right… he _was_ obsessed with Potter! Not infatuated though… never!

What baffled Draco was Potter’s reasons for sending the letter to _him_ **.**  Who would have thought that there was a Slytherin mind behind that Gryffindor facade? It made him even more interesting.

A few spaces below Potter’s signature, the oath was written. It was simple and straightforward.

_I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear…_

Hold on, how did Potter know his whole name? He was sure he never had mention his middle name around Potter.

_I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to read the following letter alone for the first time, without the presence of another being, whether it be a human, creature or portrait, who could listen or record the content of this letter. I swear to read it with an open mind and with the knowledge that this is the truth as Harry James Potter believes it to be. I swear not to talk about the details of this letter, write it down for someone else to read, or give it to an another being, whether it be a human, creature or portrait, for the next 48 hours_ _. On my blood and magic, this I so swear._

 

Draco gulped and hesitated for a moment, but his curiosity and the thought of blackmailing material thrilled him - he was a Slytherin after all. He picked up his wand, placed the tip directly under the oath on the parchment and spoke the words. At once, he felt the magic taking hold and the oath settled in him. As he looked at the blank parchments, writing appeared, floating up from the inside.

Exhilarated he picked them up, ordered another cup of tea, settled against the headboard of his bed and began reading.

 

_Wonderful, you swore the oath. Thank you… I think. I am a little nervous writing this. At the end you will know all my little secrets, so nervous is perhaps the wrong word. Afraid? Jittery? Anxious? Whatever. Let’s start._

_Again: Dear Draco_

_Welcome to the wonderful tale of the life of one Harry Potter, but as with every life story, it isn’t about only one person. And it isn’t as wonderful as most people believe. So, where and how should I begin our wonderous tale? Ah yes, like every good story starts…_

_Once upon a time…_

_There was an orphaned boy, who grew up in a muggle orphanage. He learned early that he was different, special. He could talk with snakes, he could move objects with his mind and he could punish the other children who bullied him. His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. As he reached his eleventh birthday, a strange man visited him in the orphanage and told him he was a wizard.  That man’s name was Albus Dumbledore. Albus told him about magic._

_Tom went to Hogwarts, where he was sorted into Slytherin. He was a model student, brilliant but poor and - oh so - charming. And every summer he had to go back to the orphanage. Tom feared nothing more than dying, and as he had to spend his summer in muggle London during the second muggle world war, he was obsessed with finding a way to make himself immortal._

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Draco didn’t recognize the name. Why would Potter talk about this Riddle guy? What was he driving at?

_Albus Dumbledore was suspicious of Tom. He had shown on their first meeting at the tender age of eleven how ruthless and arrogant he could be and his remarkable control over his, for an eleven-year-old, quite powerful magic made Dumbledore wary._

_Over the years Tom came to fear and despise Albus because of this._

_Throughout school Tom was obsessed with finding his magical heritage. When he discovered that his father, Tom Riddle, had been a muggle, he crafted the alias “Lord Voldemort” to spare himself the reminder of his “filthy Muggle father”. Later, he discovered that his mother’s bloodline made him a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin._

Draco paled. Voldemort… Potter was talking about the Dark Lord.

_During his fifth year he discovered the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk within, and he tried to follow the order left behind - to purge Hogwarts of everyone unworthy. A lot of students were hurt in the process, one student died. Afraid that Hogwarts would be closed and he would have to go back to the orphanage Tom closed the Chamber, but he used the murder for his own purpose. He performed an old, very dark ritual and increased the rip in his soul the act of murder had created, till his soul split apart. Tom put half of his soul in the next best object he had with him, his diary, making it his very first Horcrux._

_He didn’t notice that with half his soul missing his emotions were dulled, his ambitions distorted, his mind warped and so he crippled his magical possibilities. Thus, was the beginning of Lord Voldemort and his spiral into insanity._

Draco felt faint. As he read about the soul splitting and the Horcrux, he remembered the diary his father had possessed, something the Dark Lord had given to him for safekeeping.

_Due to his charisma, Tom had already collected a lot of followers during his time in Hogwarts. After graduation he travelled, while slipping deeper into the Dark Arts. He made four more Horcruxes beside his diary and every time his soul was split in half and his downfall into insanity and the destruction of his magical capabilities went on. And it showed on his features, dehumanization followed._

Draco had only seen the Dark Lord a few times and only once from close proximity, when his father had brought him before him as a potential Death Eater at his Lord’s demands. He had been utterly horrified and disgusted at the thought of following and kissing the feet of the snake-like nonhuman.

_He started to gather more and more followers, using their beliefs in blood purity and supreme reign over everyone beneath them to enthral them, they called themselves_ Death Eater.

_During the height of his power, one of Voldemort’s followers brought parts of a prophecy to him, a prophecy about a child, destined to be his downfall. So very afraid of dying, he went after the family and as prophesied, it was his downfall. The exact wording was:_

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...  
born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...  
and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...  
and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...  
the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

_Lord Voldemort only heard the first two lines and therefore made the fulfilment of the prophecy all the more possible. How had he found the one family with a child fitting the prophecy? A friend of the family told him where he could find them, thinking themselves safely hidden under the Fidelius charm. It was Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater, rat Animagus and friend to my parents, who betrayed them._

_And so, on Halloween night 1981, Lord Voldemort went to Godric’s Hollow to kill me._

_He gave my mother the choice to step aside, but when she refused, he killed her, and her sacrifice awakened ancient magic and protected me and rebuked the killing curse, sending it back to Lord Voldemort. His body was destroyed that night, but his Horcruxes anchored his soul. He didn’t die, but was cast from his body as a spirit._

_The consequences of that night were far greater than everyone knew at that point. His murder of two innocent people ripped his already unstable soul apart again. This soul piece would have vanished, had it not found a whole and pure living soul nearby to attach itself to – me. I was made an unintentional Horcrux and I’ve carried Lord Voldemort’s soul piece in me since then._

Draco tried to gulp, but his throat was too dry. He grabbed his so far forgotten teacup and drank half of the already cold tea. How had Potter felt when he realized he had carried a part of the soul of his parents’ murderer inside him since he was one year old? Draco tried to imagine it, but it only made him feel sick.  

_Lord Voldemort travelled as a bodiless spirit for years, till he found a willingly young wizard years later he could possess, a teacher at Hogwarts, where little Harry Potter would start soon his very first year._

_But what had happened to little Harry Potter in the interceding years?_

_As you know, I survived that fateful Halloween night with nothing more than a scar and a little extra soul piece. Hagrid took me from the destroyed house and brought me to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who knew the prophecy and knew that Lord Voldemort was not dead. And he knew about the blood sacrifice my mother had invoked. So he decided I had to grow up with blood relatives, to give me the extra protection he could place with the help of blood wards, based on my mother’s blood. My only living family from my mother’s side is Aunt Petunia, a muggle._

_Dumbledore wanted me to grow up apart from the wizarding world, he didn’t want me to be used for my fame as a child, famous for something I couldn’t even remember._

_As noble as his intentions were, his decision wasn’t really a good one._

_He left me, on a cold November night, on the doorstep of No 4, Privet Drive, a muggle neighbourhood. He thought he left me with family. I grew up there with the Dursleys, my aunt Petunia, my uncle Vernon and my cousin Dudley, but Dumbledore miscalculated. By blood the Dursleys are my family, but by everything that defines a family the Dursleys never fit the description._

_Family doesn’t treat you like an unwelcome burden, like you are something to be hidden away, their dirty secret. Something abnormal and freaky. A worthless waste of space. I had to earn my keep, the roof over my head, the food on my plate and the hand-me-downs they so graciously put on my body, as uncle Vernon loves to say. I learned to clean, cook, do the laundry and weed the garden from an early age. I learned that my name was Harry the first day I went to primary school._ They _never called me anything other than ‘freak’ or ‘boy’._

_They treated me like a house-elf, not that I knew at that time what a house-elf was. I didn’t know I was a wizard, they had told me my parents had died at a car crash. I didn’t know little boys normally didn’t sleep in a cupboard under the stairs._

_The beatings started with my first accidental magic at five. I froze a glass Dudley had pushed from the counter. I got fives lashes with Uncle Vernon’s belt and had to pick up the glass shards, afterwards I was thrown into my cupboard, locked in for a few days with no meals. From then on, I got beaten and whipped for everything I did wrong, or they thought I did, for being a burden to them, for simply being alive and especially for every bit of accidental magic I performed._

Draco was appalled by the details of Potter’s childhood. He had been prepared to read something about how he much his family loved him, how they would treat him as a prince. But this? He would disregard it as a lie, but nobody could lie on _truth parchment_.

Beatings? A cupboard as a bedroom? This was child abuse! Why hadn’t anyone done something? Had Dumbledore never checked on him? There were so few magical children born every year, every one of them was precious. His father would _never_ raise his hand or his wand against him.

_Everything escalated when I turned eleven. My Hogwarts letter arrived and was addressed to my cupboard. They tried to prevent me from reading it and were afraid someone was watching them, so they gave me Dudley’s second bedroom (a year later they put bars in front of my window, secured the door with multiple locks and installed a cat flap to fed me - really homey). More letters were sent, hundreds of them, till Hagrid found us (we were on the run at this point). He made a knot in Vernon’s gun and gave Dudley a pigtail. He told me I was a wizard._

_Hagrid showed me to Diagon Alley and told me about my parents and Hogwarts. At Madam Malkin’s I met the very first wizard my age, but I was really nervous and a little frightened by everything and the boy was kind of aloof and cold._

Here Draco paused and blushed, he remembered that day and the dark haired tiny wizard at Madam Malkin’s. He had not been used to people not knowing him and all the other children his age he knew were childhood friends. He had been nervous and had wanted to make a good impression but had not known how.

_When I came back from Diagon Alley with my trunk and my owl and the wonder in my face, I got one of my worst beatings so far. Vernon was so angry that I was happy for once, that I was happy with being not normal. They didn’t let me out of my room for the rest of the summer._

Draco wanted to vomit, or rage and scream, or – better – find and kill those thrice damned muggles. How had Potter managed to hide this? There was not even a whisper going around at Hogwarts, and this would have spread like fiendfyre. He seemed like the perfect lion - confident, brave, unafraid of standing up against whoever affronted his friends or him. Should he not be more… cowed and – well… broken?

Draco frowned. Children with an abusive past often went to Slytherin, they developed a significant amount of cunning growing up. As a prefect, he and all the other prefects and the Head boy and girl (if they were Slytherins), had a briefing at the start of every year with Severus about what they had to watch for, with the explicit order to report immediately even the slightest suspicion. 

Potter did not display the typical signs. Anyone looking at him would see a well-adjusted boy. There had not been one hint that something was amiss in his home life. Intentionally or not, Potter had made the signs of abuse very easy to miss.

But why? Why would Potter hide it? Why not seek help and get away from his abusive relatives?

_At the Hogwarts express I made my first friend ever - Ron, but I also saw the boy from Madam Malkin’s again, who behaved kind of arrogant and reminded me too much of Dudley in that moment. Ron told me more about the different houses and that he wanted to be in Gryffindor. Hagrid had already said that every bad wizard had come from Slytherin. I know that this is not the truth, but when I was eleven I believed what people told me, I was naïve and gullible._

_The Sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I was so afraid to be in the house my parents’ murderer had been in and where the arrogant kind-of-Dudley boy had been sorted, I persuaded it to put me in Gryffindor._

By Merlin’s hairy balls, Harry Potter could have been in Slytherin!? And it was part of his fault that it did not happen. Draco was dumfounded. It was the ultimate Slytherin move, hide in the house of lions.

_I quickly learned more about my fame and how everyone thought Harry Potter should be. So, I played the part. Yes, I admit it, the Gryffindor Golden Boy is a mask - or, most of it. I learned quickly that the world wanted a Gryffindor hero, so I gave them one. Dumbledore explained to me at the end of this year why I had to go back to the Dursleys every summer, the blood wards are too important._

That was the reason? An eleven-year-old boy was pushed into a role and accepted it to belong somewhere, Dumbledore told him he had to go back there every summer and that’s it? Draco wanted to hex or maim someone quite badly.

_I learned to hide the scars from my lashings, learned to suppress the flinches, learned to be loud and happy and to eat. At least Hogwarts was better than Privet Drive, even if Snape reminded me of my Uncle too often._

He had to talk with Severus. Draco knew his godfather was not the nicest person, but Hogwarts was likely Potter’s only refuge and he did not need someone to remind him of his abusive Uncle every day. Even if he did not like Potter, (no Pansy, I. am. not. infatuated. with. Potter!), nobody deserved this.

_I will not retell everything that happened in my five years at Hogwarts. Let’s just say I discovered a pattern quite fast. Something suspicion went on in which I was somehow involved, if I wanted or not, half of the school scorned me through at least part of the school year, Ron betrayed me half of the time (like in fourth year before the first task). I forgave him every time. At the end of the year something always happened, which usually resulted in me nearly dying. Let’s summarize my school years so far._

_First year I had to protect the philosopher stone from Voldemort (really shitty protections, three first years overcame them, what was Dumbledore thinking?)._

_Second year I had to rescue Ginny from the Basilisk and the sixteen-year old Tom Riddle. Riddle came out of the diary your father gave Ginny before the term even started. And yes, there was a Basilisk in the Chamber, which nearly killed me (let me tell you Basilisk venom is really painful once you get it in your bloodstream). Oh, and I am sorry we thought you were the heir of Slytherin, Hermione even brewed Polyjuice potion, so Ron and I could interrogate you as Crabbe and Goyle (Hermione accidentally used a cat hair, you can imagine the results). And did you know there is an Acromantula nest in the Forbidden Forest? We found it while discovering what Slytherin’s monster was. It was really horrible for Ron, he is terrified of spiders._

_Third year I discovered and rescued my actually innocent godfather (he never got a trial, not even Dumbledore the chief warlock looked into it) and prevented my soul being sucked out by Dementors (I really hate them, every time they are near me I hear my parents dying). Pettigrew escaped in that year._

_Don’t get me started on fourth year…  how Dumbledore never realized that Moody, his life-long friend, was actual a polyjuiced Death Eater… it ended with me being used in a resurrection ritual performed by Pettigrew, and Voldemort gaining a body._

_And last school year I had to survive Umbridge and her bloody detentions with a Blood-quill, being ignored by Dumbledore, horrible visions of the stuff Voldemort was doing (the soul connection over my scar sometimes let me see things from his perspective), and my godfather dying in the Ministry._

A Blood-quill? Draco had heard that Detentions with Umbridge had been horrible, but none of the few Slytherins who had detentions with her had indicated that they had to use a Blood-quill. Had it been only Potter?

Draco sighed, it seemed everything always happened to Potter. Had he known from the start what everything really included, he never would have been jealous. Could the guy not get some rest?

Draco paused… When had he started to feel sympathy for Potter? He shook his head. He admitted he did not hate Potter anymore, not after reading everything so far, but feeling compassionate?

_And every year I was sent back to the Dursleys for the summer, where they locked me away, worked me like a house-elf and beat me for breathing or not dying in whatever scheme I had been caught during the school year. Nobody knows what is happening at Privet Drive, not even Hermione and Ron._

At this Draco felt somehow smug. Potter had told him something very important and private and not even the Mudblood and the Weasel knew it.

_At the end of this year, after my godfather died, Dumbledore finally told me the prophecy. I destroyed his office in grief and anger. I felt like it was my fault. I hadn’t realized it was a trap, a trap Voldemort had set up with visions of the Hall of Prophecies over the whole year. Dumbledore knew about the visions but the only thing he did to help was order Snape to give me lessons in Occlumency._

_What a great idea. Give the teacher who hates me the most the opportunity to dig through my mind. Do you know why he hates me? It’s ridiculous, and a little sad. My father and his friends, the Marauders, bullied him during their school time and because I look so much like him he gets his revenge on James Potter by bullying his son in return. Petty if you think about._

Draco paused. He had not known this about his godfather, no wonder, Severus was a really private person. He had to agree with Potter, it _was_ petty to punish the son for the wrongdoings of the father.

_And now comes the important stuff. Since the start of this summer I’ve had a lot of time to think about the connection with Voldemort. I discovered I was a Horcrux and that he made more. How you ask? I used the connection between us and slipped into his mind to dig through it, which was a disturbing place to be, really foggy and chaotic and nauseating…_

_Voldemort and Snape gave me the idea. You know, at the Ministry Voldemort possessed me for a few moments and when I thought about it afterwards, it didn’t make any sense. How could he have done that? Sending visions is one thing, but bodily possession?_

_Oh, I discovered so much in his mind. I realized he was insane because of the soul splitting and that he wasn’t always set on the warpath. But what to do with this knowledge? I decided to give Voldemort back his soul and by extension, his sanity. I used the connection between myself as a Horcrux and all the other Horcruxes and pulled the soul pieces into myself. I already had one more soul piece than the one making me a Horcrux: the first Horcrux. The soul pieces, which was made of half of his original soul, from the diary had lashed itself to me after I destroyed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets with a Basilisk tooth, freeing it in the process._

_I merged all the soul pieces, but couldn’t include two. One, which resides in Nagini and the one in me. As we are both living beings and have our own soul, the soul piece attached itself tightly to our own over the years. They are interwoven and are hard to unravel from each other. I tried unsuccessfully with myself and it was really painful, I blacked out for nearly three days (Uncle Vernon was not amused that his car wasn’t washed before his big meeting). Even though mine is an accidental Horcrux - the soul piece is more like parasitic fragment or a stowaway - they are too interwoven with each other. Nagini welcomed and took the soul piece willingly, they are inseparable. If someone wanted to destroy it, they would have to kill Nagini._

_The other five soul pieces were merged successfully, though and I sent them back to Voldemort using our soul connection. He should be sane again (or as sane as he can be), the pieces missing make up less than 3% of his soul. Perhaps he even looks human again. I hope so, he was quite handsome when he was sixteen._

Draco was completely astonished at what Potter had done. He had in his hands the means to destroy his enemy, the murderer of his parents, the one who had tried to kill him and had tortured him, and he gave him back his soul. He helped him! Draco could not comprehend it.

With everything that had happened to him, how could he still be this forgiving? How could he be so compassionate… so downright good?

_I told Dumbledore that I collected the Horcruxes and sent the soul pieces to Voldemort. I told Snape the same, in more detail, and I suggested he check on Voldemort to see if the merging was successful and if he is sane again. I even told Snape the prophecy and that I would tell some other person everything important to know (I didn’t mention that it would be you). I told both that I knew I was a Horcrux. To Snape I even wrote, that if Voldemort is sane again, I could consent to parts of his original plans. You should talk with him about it. It wasn’t always about killing muggles and Muggle-borns, world domination and other crazy plans._

_I think with this I did my duty and vanquished the Dark Lord. I don’t want to be involved in the war or anything anymore._

_The fickle opinions of the Wizarding World don’t matter. If Voldemort doesn’t stop the violence, someone else can deal with him. You only have to destroy the snake to make him mortal again and then literally anybody could kill him._

Here Draco paused again, but if Potter and Nagini were the only Horcruxes left, why would they only have to kill Nagini? Unless… Draco read on in a hurry, he had a terrible suspicion.

_But what about the soul piece in me, you ask? It will be dealt with, make no mistake. And yes, for this I need to die. Sounds horrible. But I am sure that Dumbledore suspected Tom made Horcruxes and that I was one - at least since I showed him the diary in our second year and told him about my visions- and so far, he hasn’t done anything to remove the soul piece or even talked with me about it. I highly suspect he would have sent me on a Horcrux-hunt and then arranged it in a way that I learned about my being one at the last moment, manipulating me into walking to Voldemort willingly, letting him kill me and destroy the last Horcrux. After this, either he or someone else would have finished Voldemort off._

_And yes, I would have done it. I would do anything to prevent a war and people from dying, for more people losing their loved ones, for children ending like me. For this, I would walk to my death._

_But as I made Voldemort sane again (hopefully), I don’t think he wants his Horcrux to be destroyed. He would try anything to prevent something happening to me (sounds sweet). He would lock me away like a treasure._

_I was locked away all my life and I would do anything to avoid it happening again, I wouldn’t survive it. It is **my** life and I choose to end it on my terms, not as a chess piece who needs to be destroyed to get the king, or a precious treasure withering away in a golden cage. _

_And let’s be truthful, for what reason should I stay? I did my duty, I am not needed anymore. My childhood and homelife is hell. Hogwarts was my home, but Umbridge destroyed even that and the expectations of the wizarding world are exhausting. I am tired of these burdens._

_I will end my own life some time during the next two days._

_Do you believe in the afterlife? I am not sure, but I hope there is something, it would mean I will see Sirius and my parents soon._

_Please come to No 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey after the oaths frees you and you can talk about the content of this letter, it would be best to take your father and Voldemort with you. Collect the soul piece from me, it should linger for at least a day after my death. Give it back to Voldemort, it’s his and should be back where it belongs._

_Goodbye Draco, perhaps we could have been friends if our first meeting had happened differently. We will never know. And if you want to use everything I told you to destroy Voldemort and Dumbledore and go for world domination yourself, I am all for it. Perhaps the world needs a snobbish, arrogant but also clever and witty Slytherin to tell them all how stupid they are._

_Yours,_

_Harry Potter_

It was long after midnight when Draco finished reading and let the pages slip from his fingers. Shock and horror filling his eyes.

What should he do?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** So, Draco it is. I had so much fun writing the letter to him and his reaction so far. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think. 
> 
> Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 12th of August 2018  
> Last edited: 6th of October 2018


	7. An interesting morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. Everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I only want to play in her playground a little bit.
> 
> **AN** : Oh wow, thanks for all of the lovely comments, they keep me motivated to write the next chapters. Many thanks to everyone who bookmarked, left kudos and subsribed.
> 
> This chapter is now beta’ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness, many thanks and hugs for her.
> 
> This chapter, and the next, is dedicated to [**ulktante**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ulktante). She, and her brilliant story [**Benefits of Old Laws**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691892), is the reason how one of the subplots proceeds (with her permission, naturally) and her Lord Slytherin is an inspiration for some of the aspects of my own Marvolo. The details will be in the next chapter.
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Draco read the letter from Potter again and again, fury building inside him, making it impossible to sit still.

This was unacceptable! He seethed, pacing his room.

How _dare_ Potter unload this shit on him and bind him not to speak about it! How _dare_ he take the easy way out! Where was that damned Gryffindor bravery?

... _expect_ … he should have been in Slytherin, a voice in his head whispered. Which was _not_ the point right now.

And Dumbledore? Why hadn’t he found a way to remove the Horcrux from his Golden Boy? Why should Potter deal with this alone? After everything he already had been through.

Were all the adults in Potter’s life blind, or were they simply incompetent?

Why had nobody seen what went on with Potter? In the last year everyone who had really looked at him could have realised not everything was alright… Merlin, to have _that_ inside him and a tight mind connection to an insane Dark Lord, no wonder he had anger-management problems…

But reaching the conclusion his death was the only solution?

How _dare_ he just give up like that! Where was his irritating as hell stubbornness?

To resign himself to what he believed was his fate so simply… Draco kicked a side table in rage… he was not allowed to give up! He had the obligation to fight! He was Harry bloody Potter! The boy who never gave up! The boy who was annoying, irritating and insufferable as hell!

…

Why hadn’t he asked for help?

At this point Draco paused in his pacing, a realization dawning on him…  he had to stop thinking of Potter as the perfect brave lion. Potter was an abused child. Even if he _did_ hide the signs very well, the mindset was still there, if you only looked hard enough.

If Potter had been in Slytherin the abuse would have been discovered, of this Draco was sure. Behaviour that hadn’t rung any alarms in Gryffindor, would have aroused suspicion in Slytherin. As far as Draco knew, in all his adventures at Hogwarts, Potter never had asked for help from an adult. He had always thought of Potter as arrogant and insolent because of it, but did this desperate need for independence not look more like a pronounced lack of trust in adults?

And the Gryffindor bravery and courage? Based on everything he knew now, Draco had the impression that Potter tried to prove his worth by saving whoever he could, disregarding his own life. Apparently, his thrice-damned muggle family had drilled the worthlessness of his own life into him.

Draco could not comprehend how Potter could act without even one ounce of self-preservation.

Which led back to the problem at hand - Potter had decided to not depend on anyone and end his own damn life!

Idiotic, foolish, imbecilic, self-sacrificing, stupid Gryffindor!

Merlin, he wanted to _scream_.

So he did… loudly… thanking Salazar his rooms had silencing charms, and continuing in his furious pacing.

He could understand that Potter didn’t want to be a chess piece anymore, that he didn’t want to live his life locked up- but he couldn’t even be sure that that would happen!

Perhaps the Dark Lord, now that he was hopefully sane (Draco really needed to find out if this was the case), as the creator of the Horcrux knew another way to remove it. Or maybe now, with two healthy minds at each end of the connection, it would not bother Potter that much anymore.

Who knew what a sane Dark Lord would do!?

But, no, Potter decided not to do the sensible thing.

No! He decided to be a self-sacrificing little twit!

Draco was shaking with unadulterated fury. How _dare_ he!

There had to be another solution. Draco refused to believe Potter’s death was the only After everything he had already done (Merlin, he had _healed_ the mind, soul and magic of the most powerful Dark Lord), Potter thought he needed to die?

It was insufferable!

He needed Potter. How would he survive the monotony and stupidity of the general Hogwarts population without Potter as a distraction?

He was tired of the burdens? Then let someone help, share them!

It seemed Potter could not see it anymore, but there were more than enough people willing to help him and catch him when he fell. He might not have a family related by blood, but he had created his own regardless, even Draco could see that.

Still enraged, Draco left his room and made his way to the manor library. He needed to research. The Malfoy library was old and extensive, he needed to read everything he could find about Horcruxes, soul magic and accidental connections and bonds. Potter may have gathered crucial information in the Dark Lord’s head and the Black library, but neither he nor the Dark Lord had access to Malfoy library. There were dark and old books there you could not find anywhere else.

And he needed to read about _oath and truth parchment_. He would find a way around the oath- he needed to tell someone, preferably his parents or Severus, what was going on. He couldn’t do much on his own - he couldn’t even tell someone to apparate with him to Potter’s home, the oath prevented it.

He would not allow Potter to die! Potter gave him all this information and Draco would use it as he damn well saw fit, even against Potter’s wishes if needed.

His rage was still boiling inside him as he made his way through the dark and silent corridors of the Manor in the middle of the night, careful not to wake his parents so he wouldn’t be in the uncomfortable situation of having to explain himself.

The urge to scream had not diminished. A priceless old vase standing in the corridor shattered as he walked by. It was almost satisfying… almost.

He was too infuriated to be calmed by destroying only one small vase, though. A grim smile settled on his features as another priceless knickknack was destroyed. It was better than nothing. Since he could not shriek, everything would shatter instead. He left behind a path of destruction as he walked through the Manor.

 

* * *

 

Tom Marvolo Riddle could not remember the last time he slept this well. Now, he was sitting with a huge cup of black coffee in front of the open window in his bedroom, Potter’s letter in hand. He had carefully read it a few times now and he had marvelled about his own stupidity at sixteen.

He also had checked the connection with his two remaining Horcruxes, which were still strong, and had briefly considered peeking into Potter’s mind. The boy had some Occlumency shields, which he could easily dismantle, but it was not worth the hassle. Potter had done him a favour and considering everything the boy knew, he decided to do nothing to aggravate him further at this point.

Another point he was thinking about was what he should call himself. He definitely would not use _Lord Voldemort_ any longer, a hilarious anagram made up by a sixteen-year-old going insane. But neither was he Tom Riddle any longer… he could go with his middle name: Marvolo…

he liked the sound of it…

yes…

Marvolo it was.

Perhaps he should look up if he could take the Slytherin family name. He was entitled to take the Gaunt name, but he shuddered when he thought about the appearance and behaviour of the last member of the family he had met. His Uncle Morfin had not been a prime example of the wizarding species. No, he really did not want to be directly associated with the name Gaunt.

Marvolo sighed, he could not wait to talk with Severus and Lucius. He really hoped Severus could find a way to cure the last remains of his foolishness, if he looked entirely human again he could perhaps pose as his own son.

He had already used the morning to write down his observations of the resurrection ritual and the repercussions.

And he had to assess Severus loyalty, he had been crazy far too long. Who would follow such a madman, even if you are bound to him?

Severus was too proficient in Occlumency, he could lie to him, and he was a true Slytherin. Marvolo remembered how agitated Severus had been when he told him about his plan to go after the Potters. He knew Severus had been friends with Lily Potter once. Had he lost his loyalty there and then?

Was there a way he could accomplish his goals without another outright war? Potter had been right, they had already lost too many wizard and witches. If he could take on the mantle of Lord Slytherin, he would have significant political influence and a seat in the Wizengamot. But for this, he needed to integrate himself with the law-abiding population, and best without being thrown into Azkaban for the things he did while he was insane.

He had to investigate the connection between and Potter further as well. Had the use of Potter’s blood in the resurrection ritual had any influence on their connection based on the Horcrux? He definitely could not feel Nagini’s emotions without dipping into her mind, like he could Potter’s if he was not occlumencing.

He scanned the letter again. He had a lot to discuss with Severus and Lucius.

 

* * *

 

Harry awoke well rested, to the sun shining into his room. It promised to be a hot day in July, but the breeze coming through the open window was still fresh enough. Stretching and yawning he grabbed his glasses and slid off the bed. After a nice breakfast with water and pumpkin pie (thank Merlin for preservation spells) courtesy of Mrs Weasley, a very human problem announced itself in ferocity, which he had suppressed until now with practiced ease. Harry looked at the bucket Uncle Vernon had left with disdain. But as he had no other choice… then a wicked grin spread on his face… and moments later the bucket was carefully emptied through the bars of his window onto his Aunts prized rosebushes, they would be growing nicely. He had heard once that waste made excellent fertiliser. He could practically hear the outraged screams of his aunt.

Harry chuckled and looked over the stacks of letters on his desk. Deciding on which he wanted to send next, he bundled them together, gently stroking Hedwig, who was still sleeping on her perch.

“Hey girl. Up for the next trip?”

Hedwig blinked at him and hooted.

“I hope you caught some nice fat mice last night before you returned. I am not sure if you liked what I could give you.” Hedwig hooted again, hopped onto his shoulder and started to ruffle his hair. Harry let her and changed her water meanwhile.

When Hedwig seemed satisfied with his hairstyle, she presented him her leg. Harry carefully tied the bundle of letters to her leg.

“I know, it’s a bit heavy, but they all go to the same destination. Have a safe trip!”

Hedwig nipped his finger fondly as he carried her to the window. Harry settled on the windowsill to watch her fly away. Had Snape checked on Voldemort? He did not dare to open his side of the connection, he was sure that Voldemort would not be happy if he found that Harry was planning to destroy one of his last remaining Horcruxes. And Dumbledore, would he leave him alone, at least a while longer? And Malfoy? Harry snickered, he would have loved to see Malfoy’s reaction to his letter.

Tomorrow…

 

* * *

 

At exactly seven o’clock Severus stepped out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor, where Lucius already awaited him, looking slightly nervous. A sentiment Severus could agree with.

They did not speak as they walked side by side through the manor. Both men steeled themselves as they approach their Lord’s office and knocked. After a short “Enter,” they stepped into the room and bowed deeply.

“Come sit with me. We have a lot to discuss and complicated matters are best talked about while comfortable.” The amused voice of the Dark Lord startled them.

After yesterday’s events, they _had_ expected a different man than the one who had called himself Lord Voldemort for the last year, he had been calmer and more in control of himself, but as they took their seats on the settee, they realized how different his demeanour really was.

He had shown a small smile when they entered, his red eyes fixed them with an intense, but not malicious, gaze. He looked relaxed, sitting there in the armchair, drinking a cup of tea, or was it coffee? All in all, he looked and behaved surprisingly… _human_ , even if his features were not entirely so.

“Severus, there are two concerns I want to talk with you about. First, I want you to find a way to give me back my complete human looks. Having the main part of my soul back already helped, but you certainly noticed that not everything changed. I am not sure if this is because there are still two Horcruxes left or if Pettigrew butchered the resurrection potion. I set up a potion lab down in the cellar for you to use. You will hopefully find everything you need there, if not, send a house-elf to bring you whatever you require. I already provided blood and skin samples, and the leftovers of the resurrection potion, the potion formula, a description of the ritual used and a transcript of procedure from my point of view. Thank Merlin, Pettigrew had enough brains to store some samples.” The Dark Lord addressed Severus, who nodded.

His mind already focusing on the task, browsing through possible potions that dealt with the healing of disfigurement.

“The other concern we have to address is your loyalty.”

Severus’ head snapped up, his face a carefully blank mask. “My loyalty, my Lord? I am and have always been your ever-loyal servant.”

The Dark Lord only looked at him.

“I am well aware, Severus, that I lost your loyalty fifteen years ago when I attacked the Potters. Or, more precisely, when I attacked and killed Lily Potter née Evans.”

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but a gesture from the Dark Lord stopped him.

“I do not hold it against you. I was a madman at the time, so afraid of death that my conduct was erratic and unnecessarily violent. To believe in an incomplete prophecy and act on it without further investigations was incredibly foolish and I paid the price. Having my mind and soul back for the first time since I was a teenager, has let me see things in a slightly different way. I always disregarded the power feelings like friendship and love could have. It was this contempt that led to my fall at the hands of a toddler and his mother.” The Dark Lord took a sip from his cup and sighed.

“But even in my insane state, I at least tried to uphold my promise to you, Severus. I asked Lily Potter to stand aside three times. I understand now that most mothers would do everything to protect their children, but at that time I found it incredibly foolish of her to throw away her life for the little brat. But because I gave her the chance to live, her willing sacrifice created the magic that protected Harry Potter from my killing curse. An ancient, powerful magic in the form of a long-lasting counter-charm.”

Severus briefly closed his eyes. His Lord had tried to honour his plead for mercy for Lily and only because of this, her son was still alive. Of course, Lily would have never stepped aside and let her son die.

“But what I do not know, is to what extent I have lost your loyalty, Severus.”

Severus opened his eyes again and with a brief internal struggle, looked his Lord in the eyes and lowered his Occlumency shields, showing him how Dumbledore had pressured him into an oath to protect Lily’s son, using his grief against him. How he tried to fight the regulations against specific potions, labelled dark. His disgust with the ban of Dark Magic. Everything.

 

* * *

 

Marvolo was surprised by Severus’ offer to assess his mind, but he immediately took advantage of the invitation. He tried to dive into Severus’ mind as carefully as possible, but as powerful as he was in Legilimency, he never was gentle. He first examined the memories Severus showed him from every angle, establishing that they were not tampered with, then he delved deeper, pressing against the unintentional shields Severus’ subconscious mind brought up and passing through them.

He looked through Severus’ memories, starting with Lily Potter. He examined Severus’ childhood, his friendship with Lily and his Hogwarts school years. Every embarrassing detail was inspected. His happy memories with Lily, the glaring contrast to his dark home life, the bullying at the hands of Potter and his friends, his growing interest and proficiency in the Dark Arts. The devastation after his fallout with Lily.

He saw his deep satisfaction as he took the Dark Mark, his growing dissatisfaction over time with the dark side’s goals and their means of accomplishing them, and his despair when he realized he had bound himself to an insane megalomaniac.

His utter terror the night he learned his only childhood friend was the target of said madman. The all-consuming pain when he found her body.

Marvolo saw the moment Dumbledore had guilt pressured the grieving man into the oath to protect the boy.

Severus’ teaching years till the Potter boy started Hogwarts flew by. He watched as the Potions Master was forced to protect the boy. He carefully studied the interactions between Severus and Potter. All these memories were overshadowed by hate because the boy looked and behaved so much like his father, and pain when he caught a glimpse of these green eyes, so much like his mother.

He saw Severus’ growing annoyance and resentment towards Dumbledore and the light side, and his reluctance to follow the orders given by the old man.

He saw himself raging like a madman, unhinged and volatile after the resurrection. He felt Severus’ hopelessness for the dark side.

Severus’ whole life, his ambitions and hopes were spread out before him.

Severus Snape wanted to preserve traditions and he did not want to repress the so-called Dark Arts. He was a Dark Wizard himself, so he understood the danger coming from them. They were alluring and you could easily lose yourself to them. But you could not ban Dark Magic, it would mean that a third of the wizarding population needed to deny their innate magic and therefore their own nature. The Darkest Arts should be monitored, yes, everybody who learned them should be aware of what they are doing, but not banned. Severus Snape hoped that the wizarding world could change, but both of his masters had crushed this hope so far.

Marvolo carefully surfaced from deep within the Potions Master’s mind.

 

* * *

 

Severus knew it was a huge risk to lower his shields and allow the Dark Lord unrestricted access to his mind, but the man’s demeanour yesterday and today promised a change and a chance for the dark side.

Having the Dark Lord delving into his mind was as unpleasant as he had expected it. He was forced to relive his best and worst memories. The feelings connected to those memories left him raw, but it had to be done. If he wanted to take part in this new dark side, his Lord needed to be certain of his loyalty.

He sighed in relief when the intense presence of the Dark Lord’s mind left his own, leaving him with a pounding headache and a struggle to keep his feelings under control. He vaguely noticed Lucius calling for a house-elf to bring a headache reliever and a calming draught.

After Severus downed the potions, not without sniffing carefully, and was in control if himself again, both men shifted their attention back to the dark wizard.

“Thank you, Severus. The trust you showed today will not be abused and even if I had lost your loyalty, the dark side did not. Rest assured that I don’t plan to endanger your oath. An oath to protect the boy who is my Horcrux and to whom we owe a huge favour, I certainly can work with that.”

Lucius went stiff at his side hearing about the oath and looked shocked at him, but Severus nodded and felt relief calming him further.

“Now that this is out of the way, we have a few more issues we must address. It is certain that I will not continue like before. A war is not the way to accomplish our goals, violence can only bring us so far and would only lead to the loss of precious wizarding blood. Instead we must fight mainly on the political stage, at least openly. For this, I need a legal way to integrate myself with the law-abiding population, preferably without being thrown into Azkaban. Lucius, that will be your part. Look through all cases where someone came back from the dead, I cannot be the first case. Perhaps there is something we could use to declare me innocent because of insanity. Another possibility would be for me to play my own son. Either way, I want to know what requirements there are for taking up the mantle of Lord Slytherin. The title would give us significant political and social influence, not to speak of the seat in the Wizengamot.”

Lucius nodded. “I will begin immediately. Now that the Ministry is openly declaring your resurrection we should act as fast as possible. May I seek help from one of the others in the inner circle?”

“Certainly. I will call Thaddaeus. If I remember correctly he is proficient in the judicial area.”

Lucius presented his left arm upon the Dark Lords gesture. A short and surprisingly gentle call through the Dark Mark and moments later, they heard a knock on the door. Thaddaeus Nott entered with the permission of the Dark Lord, and only a small break in his step hinted his surprise as he noticed the new looks of his Lord. He bowed deeply, his already mostly grey hair falling into his eyes.

“My Lord.”

“Please sit, Thaddaeus. Lucius, Severus, please inform him of what has transpired so far.” The Dark Lord gestured to an empty armchair beside the settee Severus and Lucius were sitting.

While Thaddaeus was updated by Lucius, leaving some details out like the Horcruxes, Severus observed his Lord. He looked exhausted, and no wonder, the process of having his soul merge back together and the adaption to the new amount of magic he should be able to wield now must be draining.

Discreetly, Severus slid a Pepper-up potion to his Lord, who acknowledged and thanked him with a slight tilt of his head.

Once Thaddaeus was up to date, the Dark Lord took hold of the conversation again.

“As you can see, we have a lot to do and as fast as possible. First and foremost, find a way for me to be a law-abiding citizen again and the requirements for taking the Slytherin Lordship.  Potter pointed out another interesting issue. I am not up to date with Muggle science, so please find someone to research the following terms: DNA, gene pools, gene mutation and mendelian rules in the context of inbreeding.”

None of the men had heard of these terms so far and looked utterly confused.

“If I may ask, why my Lord?” Severus enquired.

“Potter hinted it could have something to do with the growing birth of Squibs and magically weak children in pure-blood families.”

“I will put one of the younger ones to the task. Perhaps the oldest son of the Parkinson family?” Lucius suggested.

“Payton? Yes, contact him later. I want the detail of this meeting and everything connected to Potter’s letter remain between us, though.” All three men nodded in agreement. “Good. Now, Thaddaeus, you can go and start with your task.”

Thaddaeus nodded again and left the study.

“Lucius, Severus, we have to talk about Potter. As he is one of my remaining Horcruxes, he must be protected. Leaving him alone is not an option anymore. After everything I learned from you today, Severus, I don’t trust Dumbledore not to use him against me, even against Potter’s will. He hinted that he would disappear - I don’t think Dumbledore would allow the boy to do that - but he doesn’t elaborate. Severus, what did he write to you on this matter?”

Severus removed the letter sent to him from his pocket and began to read.

“He does not say anything of disappearing in my letter, but he acknowledged that he would approve some goals of the dark side and that dark does not equal evil.” Severus consented to the Dark Lord’s assessment of the Headmaster.

Scanning some parts of the letter again, Severus decided to take a calculated risk. “But the boy hinted that he would try to destroy the Horcrux inside him. He explained that he is not a complete Horcrux, like Nagini, due to the missed performance of the needed ritual. He called it a parasitic fragment, and it seems he will try to get rid of it. He did not elaborate how or why, but if I must guess, he wants to be free of everything that could be used to have some power over him.” If Severus read the situation correctly, his Lord was sincere in trying to protect the boy, therefore enabling Severus to uphold his oath.

At this point Severus agreed with the Dark Lord that Dumbledore was the greater threat. If Potter was not going willingly along with whatever plan the Headmaster had, he was sure that Dumbledore had no qualms killing the boy for ‘the greater good’. Severus had the growing suspicion that Dumbledore knew what Potter was and keeping the Horcrux would put him under the protection of the most powerful wizard in Britain.

“Potter didn’t mention this in the letter he wrote to me,” the Dark Lord mused. “But he wrote that his plans wouldn’t allow him to see the aftermath of all he had done and that this would be the last time I heard from him. We can’t actually do something at the moment, though, Potter is too well protected at his summer residence. Severus, if Potter already sent a letter to Dumbledore, he will surely call for you. If you can find out what Potter wrote to Dumbledore and what the Headmaster intends to do, we can decide how to proceed. If he could simply destroy the soul-piece, I am sure Potter would have already done it and his actions so far lead me to believe he wishes to give it back to me. As the connection between his soul and my Horcrux is too tight, I can’t think of a way how he could accomplish this. But if he found a way, the boy did me a favour regardless and therefore he will be under my protection, even without being a Horcrux.”

Severus was relieved. The oath would be fulfilled, the boy protected, and he could stay at the side he belonged to.

“And I fully intend to ignore the prophecy. I have to find a way to learn the full content. Even if it is, perhaps, not a true prophecy, Dumbledore seems to believe in it and act on it. Therefore, it would be easier to anticipate Dumbledore’s plans if I knew it in its entire content. The copy in the Hall of Prophecies was destroyed. Severus, do you think Dumbledore shared the prophecy with Potter?” The Dark Lord mused.

Severus paused. Should he take another risk? So far everything had played out better than he had dared to hope. Taking a deep breath, he addressed his Lord.

“My Lord, Potter informed me of the whole content of the prophecy in his letter. He called it a self-fulfilling prophecy and said that he already fulfilled it as a toddler.” Then he read this part of the letter out, while observing the reaction of the Dark Lord. He looked calm, surprisingly, relieved and a little confused.

“Interesting and odd. It seems, Potter is right. If I hadn’t went after him, I would never have marked him as my equal and opened the way for the prophecy to take hold. And he already vanquished me, nothing is hinting that he has to do it again. Can we even be sure that it is about me as a Dark Lord?”

The red-eyed man stayed silent for a few moments.

“What confuses me the most is this part: _and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_. What exactly does it mean? That only Potter can kill me and the other way around? How ridiculous. Yes, the container of a Horcrux is extremely hard to destroy by any other hand than the original owner of the soul, the destruction level of fiendfyre or basilisk venom is needed, but is it the same with a human Horcrux? I am not sure. Would this mean Potter and I are immortal or at least not destroyable? Also, living and surviving are two different things. I was merely surviving while I was a bodiless spirit and perhaps, even in the nearly soulless state after the resurrection. What defines living? what defines surviving? This prophecy contains too many possibilities and oddities to interpret it.”

The Dark Lord was deeply lost in thought again.

“The best course is to ignore it for the moment. Perhaps I’ll have the chance to discuss it with Potter himself at some point. I think that is all for the moment. Please notify the others, that Death Eater - and we really need another name, it sounds ridiculous - activities are on break for the moment. How we proceed from here is dependent on what law can be found to be used.”

He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Lucius and Severus bowed and left the study.

In the hallway both men looked at each other, determination settled in their faces. They agreed to do everything in their power to not let this chance for the dark side go to waste. Too much depended on it.

 

* * *

 

Severus called a house-elf to show him to the potions lab the Dark Lord had set up for him in the basement. It was a well illuminated room. Severus was not sure what it had been used for before. Perhaps a storage room?

Now a huge granite work table dominated the room. Three of the four walls were hidden behind shelves upon shelves of potion ingredients in glass and crystal, jars and vials. He spotted even some really rare and expensive ingredients. A ventilation charm system had been installed to remove harmful fumes out of the only window. Cauldrons in different sizes and from all different materials were standing in a row against one wall and on the working table every instrument made from every possible material a Potion Master could think about were laid out.

The information he needed concerning the ritual and potion used for the resurrection and the samples were on the table. After the first quick overview of the formula, Severus was already excited. The ritual itself was actually quite simple, but the preparations of the ritual and the potion were extensive. The potion itself was complicated and intriguing. How Pettigrew, who was a mediocre brewer, could have successfully made this potion, Severus did not know.

He picked up one of the samples from the potion. It was from an early stage in the brewing process. Pulling out the stopper he poured it into a simple iron cauldron. While he read over the potion formula, the brewing process and the description of the procedure from his Lord, his mind already analysed the potion by consistence, smell and colour.

This was why he had become a Potion Master. This was a thrilling, complicated puzzle, wanting to be solved. For the next hours, Severus Snape immersed himself in the subtle art of potions making.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile Hedwig reached a peculiar looking building. It was several stories high, with four or five chimneys and so many extra rooms added to the original building, that only magic was able to keep it together.

Flying through the open window into a warm, friendly, welcoming, but empty kitchen, Hedwig landed on the long table and ruffled her feathers shortly. With her beak she tugged at the ribbon binding the package of letters to her foot and undid it. She left the letters on the table and departed through the window again, heading back to her wizard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading and let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks again to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 27th of August 2018  
> Last edited: 18th of November 2018


	8. Of laws and healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. 
> 
> **AN:** Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and all the kudos and comments. 
> 
> As the last chapter this one is also dedicated to [**ulktante**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ulktante). With her permission I am using her brilliant concept of the  law of Haxby.
> 
> When I started planning and writing this story I knew how I wanted to proceed with Marvolo. I crafted an idea of a law to help him but then I read [**Benefits of Old Laws**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691892) from [**ulktante**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ulktante) and my idea would have been very similar to it. I wrecked my brain for weeks to come up with something different, but all the other ideas were not feeling right for this story. So, I decided to go with the law plot and ask ulktante if I can use her law idea. I am so happy that she said yes. Mine would have been too similar that I am sure someone would have accused me of copying. 
> 
> This chapter is now beta’ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness, a million thanks and hugs to her.
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Harry flopped on his bed, sighing. He was totally, utterly bored and it wasn’t even noon. Hedwig was still absent, delivering the latest letters, there was nothing to do. He already had spent his morning doing his summer assignments out of overwhelming ennui. It was completely meaningless to do them, he wouldn’t be going back to Hogwarts to submit them, but he was certain that Hermione would approve.

Harry snickered. ‘Harry, planning to end your own existence is not an excuse to forget to do your homework!’ It certainly sounded like something Hermione would say.

He sighed again. Would his friends understand his reasons for doing this? Would they understand that he felt it was the right thing to do - to give Voldemort back what was his?

So far, his whole life had been orchestrated by someone else, he had never really been allowed to decide things for himself. All these people with their expectations and prejudices, Dumbledore manipulating him to do the right thing for the greater good. The greater good for whom? Certainly not for Harry, it seemed.

But this… this was something he _chose_ to do. It was his own decision. Harry knew there were other possible ways to handle the situation. Sure, he could ask some of the adults for help, to search another method to remove the Horcrux within himself.

He could have destroyed all the soul pieces and then killed Voldemort. Harry was sure, that was what Dumbledore had planned to do. It would have been the easy thing.

Or, he could talk with Voldemort. Perhaps he was reasonable after regaining his sanity, perhaps they could live with the soul connection. But would Voldemort allow his human Horcrux ever out of his sight? Instead of Dumbledore, Voldemort would take over dictating his life, instead of trying to end it like before, something Harry really did not want. He was through with listening to adults.

Every time he had asked for an adult to help in his life, nothing good had come out of it. So why should he now?

It was _his_ life, his right to do with it whatever he wanted, at least this once and he was content with his decision. To end his own life to prevent the wizarding war to continue, to give Voldemort his soul piece back and to spite the whole wizarding world for their cowardly way of looking to him to do something… sounded brilliant, like at least his death changed something… had a meaning. And then he could finally rest.

Merlin, he was so tired…

Losing Sirius and hearing the prophecy… it had shaken his world. He wasn’t even sixteen yet, how could he possibly win against a wizard like Voldemort?

He remembered the fight in the Ministry between Dumbledore and Voldemort quite well. How could anybody believe he stood a chance against someone like _that_?

Kill or be killed…

He refused to let this prophecy dictate every aspect of his life - especially not his death.

If he really had to die, it would be on his terms and not someone else.

He had nobody he would leave behind, not like his parents had.

Yes, he was sure that Ron and Hermione would miss him, but they had their families to fall back on and over time, they would come to terms with it. The Weasley’s would certainly grieve, but he wasn’t really part of their family, and they had each other. They would survive this. Everything he had done, and planned to do, was to ensure his friends and surrogate family would survive.

All his friends, all of the people he loved, had someone they could lean on. They were all surrounded by loved ones. They would survive his death, they would mourn and grieve and _live_. That was what Harry was fighting for and, in the end, planned to die for - life.

He himself had no one anymore and that was good, nobody would be destroyed by his death. He had no family (the Dursley’s certainly did not count), Sirius was dead, there was no one else… and Remus…

Harry closed his eyes. Thinking of Remus hurt. He had thought of him as something like a second godfather, a beloved uncle. Someone who cared for him as Harry, not the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, but he had not heard from Remus since the fiasco at the Department of Mystery. No letter, no visit. Nothing…

Harry understood that Sirius death had hurt Remus, perhaps even more than himself, but still, he had hoped…

Harry snorted. Hope had never helped him. Every time he got his hopes up, something had destroyed it. Just another reason to go through with this plan.

He simply saw no reason to stay and see what would become of the wizarding world now that he had vanquished Voldemort and brought Tom Riddle back. He had done what had been expected of him, what the prophecy and Dumbledore and the public demanded. He would send the last letters and then he would rest.

He had enough. Enough of fighting in a war he had been forced to participate in. Enough of people dying. Enough of the responsibilities and the burden of being the Boy-Who-Lived.

He was exhausted… mentally, emotionally and physically.

He had known since first year and certainly since the moment Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron, that there was a big chance he would not make it out alive. He had accepted it.  At least he could choose when and how and for what, he would go.

And in the end, he would see his parents and Sirius again.

A ruffle of feathers brought him out of his brooding. Harry opened his eyes and sat up to find Hedwig sat at her perch, regarding him with one of her looks, telling him he was stupid. Harry ignored it and walked to her. Gently caressing her white feathers.

“When did you get back? Have a nice flight? Do you want some rest, or are you up for more?”

Hedwig hooted exasperatedly and hopped onto his shoulder. Harry laughed, his mood lightening.

“Okay, okay... let me get the next letters.”

He went to his desk, Hedwig tousling his hair. The stack of letters was certainly smaller now.

“Only a few left. Here you go.” He tied the letters to her leg and watched as she left through the window.

Sighing and flopping on his bed again, Harry tried to think of something to do to keep the overwhelming boredom from killing him, before he could to it himself.

Perhaps he should write his memoirs?

 

* * *

 

Severus walked through the quiet corridors of Malfoy Manor, approaching the wing the Dark Lord was residing in. He was tired. The last hours had been exhausting, the potion had demanded all his concentration and all his skills as a Potion Master.

But he had done it.

He reached into the pocket of his robe, curling his fingers around the glass vial there. Pride filled him and satisfaction. Pettigrew had butchered the resurrection potion, it was a wonder it had functioned at all, and he was sure that some of it still lingered in the Dark Lord’s body. He had found a way to remove the rest, though, and reverse the damage the wrongly brewed potion had caused.

Knocking on the door of the Dark Lord’s office, he let himself wonder for a short moment how much everything had changed in just a day. Yesterday morning he had sat in his kitchen, trying to ignore his worry for his future as a spy. Everything had changed, thanks to a letter from Potter – of all the people. Severus snorted and opened the door after he received permission.

The Dark Lord sat in one of the armchairs and opposite him, Lucius and Thaddaeus.

“Ah Severus, come in and sit. Lucius and Thaddaeus brought back their research.” The Dark Lord waved him to an empty armchair.

Severus bowed and pulled the glass vial out of his pocket.

“I also have news, my Lord.” He placed the vial on the table in front of the Dark Lord, who looked at the glass vial, and then at Severus.

Reading the question in those red eyes, Severus nodded. “Yes, my Lord. Pettigrew butchered the resurrection potions. I think most of the remaining disfigurements are caused by this, perhaps not everything, but this we can only determine after the damage is healed. There is a remnant of the potion left in your system, which we must first neutralize and draw out. A simple detoxification potion should be enough, my Lord.” Severus brought out another vial and placed it next to the first one on the table.

The Dark Lord studied the vials, picked the first one up, opened it and sniffed. His eyes grew wide and he looked at Severus, who nodded.

“Yes, my Lord. Your homunculus was sustained by Nagini’s venom and Unicorn blood, but for the resurrection potion only Unicorn blood was needed, something Pettigrew overlooked, so he added the snake venom. The unicorn blood for the potion should also have been freely given to exhibit its full properties, another mistake of the rat. He contaminated the potion with Nagini’s scales, his own sweat and dust from where ever he was brewing. He used dried Valerian roots instead of fresh ones and…” Severus stopped as the Dark Lord raised a hand placatingly.

“Thank you, Severus. I don’t think you have to list all the mistakes Pettigrew made. I pledge insanity as the reason why I let him handle something so important.” A smirk found its way to the Dark Lords face, and the other three men in the room looked dumbfounded.

Had the Dark Lord really made a joke at his own expense? All three men in the room tried, unsuccessfully, to hide their bewilderment.

Severus was the first to recover.

“Certainly, my Lord. I would suggest taking these potions with someone attending to you. The detoxification could be quite painful and exhausting, and the healing will also not be pleasant.”

“How long do you think will it take for these potions to work?” The Dark Lord enquired.

“The detoxification should only take a few minutes, perhaps half an hour, depending on how your body reacts and if it helps or fights the potion. The healing potion will take longer to perform its properties. Perhaps one or two hours… I cannot be entirely sure.” Severus trailed off.

The Dark Lord looked thoughtful.

“Then I will take them after this conversation. Lucius and Thaddaeus brought back some interesting findings and we should discuss them.”

Severus nodded and settled back in his armchair. The Dark Lord called for a house-elf to bring some tea and sandwiches and shifted his attention to the other two men.

“Continue Lucius.”

The blond gathered the parchment he had set aside when Severus had entered and addressed the Dark Lord, who prepared his tea while listening to the aristocrat.

“My Lord, we think we found an old law we could use under the current circumstance. If we play it right, you would be declared innocent of every crime before you gained your second body.” Lucius explained, taking a teacup for himself.

“Tell me about this law.” The Dark Lord leaned back in his armchair with an intrigued expression, taking a gulp from his tea, a quiet content sigh escaping him.

Even with his almost human features, it was a shockingly human behaviour and Severus was sure he had never heard it from the Dark Lord before.

Meanwhile Lucius started explaining their findings.

“It is called the law of Haxby. In short, it says that a witch or wizard who has been forced from their bodies, and later regained a body of their own again, are not to be held accountable for what they did before said body. Anyone who has been a bodiless spirit for any length of time and obtained a new human body can call on this law. These witches and wizards are considered new-borns, free of everything they had done or not done before being _reborn._ ” Lucius paused, and Thaddaeus took over.

“It was passed as a law because in the early 1300’s several witches were tricked by a Potion Master to drink a portion that made them lose their bodies. Their spirits were forced into bodies he created for them. To help the victims in the aftermath, the law was created. The original reason behind it was to help the freed witches after their bodies were restored, so they would not be held responsible for the things done while under the influence of that wizard.” Thaddaeus elaborated, looking disgusted at the action of this Potion Master. “A similar arrangement to that made for victims of the Imperius curse.”

Severus could only agree. The Dark Lord glanced at Lucius pensively, setting his teacup aside, and tapped his fingers against his armrest.

“That certainly sounds like something we can use in my case. If we find a believable story for why I lost my body, and if Severus potions help me regain my complete human body.”

“My Lord, I am sure they will change the law after you use it to your advantage. We checked every occurrence the law has been used, but as long as it still enforced, you can use it to start anew.” Thaddaeus slid the parchment about the law of Haxby over the table to the Dark Lord, who read over it and leaned back thoughtfully in his chair.

“This really sounds perfect for my situation. Well done, Lucius and Thaddaeus. If I use my insanity and unstable condition, I think the penalty for the known crimes since I regained my body will be manageable. So, the best course of action would be to take Severus’ potions and then, if I look human again, we’ll have to find a way to call in a Wizengamot meeting. We need some powerful allies, someone not too obvious, on our side.”

“The Minister doesn’t listen to me anymore, not since the fiasco with the Department of Ministry.” Lucius sighed. “And technically, I should be still in Azkaban.”

“That is true…” The Dark Lord mused. “Would declaring that I forced you to do everything under the threat of harming your family, especially your heir, help?”

Lucius’ head came up in surprise. Thaddaeus frowned and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“Yes, it would help. Under the family law §721 it says, that if the family line and their continuation is in danger of going extinct because of occurrences outside of the family’s control, and a member of the family commits a crime with the assumption to prevent his family line from dying out, the accused can be charged milder or declared completely innocent, based on the crime. It’s an old pure-blood law, but still enforced.” He elaborated.

“But it only holds if there is really only one heir and no other family members. In the case of the Nott family the law could not be used, because my father had three sister who were all married into pure-blood families from the continent. Even if Theodore and I die, the Nott inheritance would still go to the oldest male from one of those families.”

“The Malfoy family has only produced one male child since at least seven generations ago. So, beside Draco and myself, there is really no Malfoy blood left.” Lucius sounded bitter. Severus knew how much his friend had wanted another child after Draco, but every other pregnancy had resulted either in a stillbirth or miscarriage.

The Dark Lord glanced shortly at him. “In this case, the law would hold for you Lucius. After I am a _normal_ citizen again, you can declare that everything you did was under the threat of killing your son. You will have to behave like you had no choice in doing what you did. Be hostile, or wary of my presence in public.”

Lucius looked thoughtful but also slightly insulted that the Dark Lord thought he needed to be reminded of his behaviour. “We can definitely make that believable. I will be hostile towards you, but grudgingly support your political objectives, as they still overlap with the ones I supported during your absence.”

The Dark Lord nodded. “And it would give more credibility to my story. We’ll have to see what we can do after my own Wizengamot trial for the other convicted Death Eaters. On another note, I want to change the name from Death Eaters to the original Knights of Walpurgis.”

All three men acknowledged this with a nod.

“Good. So, who could we contact to bring my case in front of the Wizengamot? It should be someone with enough influence to call an emergency session. We don’t want to wait long, or Dumbledore and his Order could move against us.” Here the Dark Lord took a quick glance at Severus.

“At the moment, Dumbledore is apprehensive that you took no further action this summer, my Lord. I have not heard from him in the last few days.”

“Report back after the old man contacts you. Back to the topic. Who should be approached?”

“Why don’t _I_ go to either the Minister or Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” Thaddaeus asked. “I was never convicted, or even accused, of being a Death Eater. My reputation as a solicitor would bring more credibility to the story and Fudge or Madam Bones would not brush my words aside. **He** is too afraid what I could do with my influence and reputation in the Ministry and certain social circles, and **she** is known to be serious, fair, unbiased and someone who would ensure that the law would be upheld. I could bring the case in front of the Wizengamot myself, but it would take days till the trial, days Dumbledore could use to interfere. If I go as your solicitor to the Minister, or the Head of the DMLE, one of them could set an emergency session. My law office is one of the most highly respected and we have quite a reputation. If I officially take your case, not even Dumbledore could brush it aside, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord looked at Thaddaeus in surprise. “When you came into my service the agreement was that you would never have to officially associate with me. I needed someone who was knowledgeable in the judicial system and therefore was willing to do it this way, even as insane as I already was. You really want to throw this arrangement aside now?”

Thaddaeus smiled slightly. “My Lord, I am from an older generation than Lucius and Severus. I remember the beginnings, when you still had some of your sanity and brilliance. I wore your Mark with pride, even if nobody ever saw it. I hoped that I would still be alive, to see you whole again. And even if you were insane most of the time, you still showed mercy for never standing openly at your side. I would be proud to do this now. And the reputation I built up over the years will now be put to good use for you.” He inclined his head to the Dark Lord, who watched him with something like fondness in his eyes, if Severus interpreted it correctly.

“Very well, we will do it this way then. We only have to decide whom you should approach. It would be best if I leave Malfoy Manor as well. If Lucius’ defence will be based on his unwillingness and forced participation, I should not reside here. I will move to Riddle Manor, where I will remain till after the Wizengamot trial.”

Lucius did not try to object, but simply called a house-elf, ordering it to pack the Dark Lords belongings.

“The question remains, the Minister or Madam Bones?”

Lucius and Thaddaeus exchanged a quick glance.

“The Minister is desperate at the moment. There are rumours, now that there is evidence of your return, that he will be replaced. His reputation suffered a great deal because of his denial of your resurrection since last summer and his slander of Dumbledore and Potter, who were telling the truth all along. This would make it easier to manipulate him, but he would also be a weak ally and his word is not worth much amongst the members of the Wizengamot.” The blond aristocrat mused.

“Madam Bones is fair, truthful to the bone and much harder to convince, but if she would convene the Wizengamot meeting and back up our case, then we would already have most of the light and at least half of the neutral parties on our side.” Lucius continued.

“So, Minister Fudge would be the easier catch but the weaker support, but to win Madam Bones, the background story and the evidence must be incontrovertible.” The Dark Lord summarized and thoughtfully picked up his teacup.

“I can produce memories which would back up the story I want to go with and I would submit myself to a Veritaserum interrogation. I could call in a healer, one of our own, to test me for residual dark magic. Would a report of my mental health, together with the findings of a residue from a dark curse be of assistance to convince Madam Bones of my sincerity?” He chuckled as he saw the expression on the other men’s faces.

Thaddaeus cleared his throat. “If a report like that is producible, best from a well-known healer with a reputation in the healing of mental and curse diseases, it would be more than helpful. If you know a healer who would be willing to fake such a report, he should be contacted immediately, my Lord.”

The smile the Dark Lord gave the three men in his office showed a lot of amusement and was downright chilling.

“The report will be with you in the next hour. Lucius, Thaddaeus did you find out the requirements for me to take on the Slytherin Lordship?” The Dark Lord moved on to the next point on his agenda.

Lucius nodded and summarized the findings while Thaddaeus nibbled at some cucumber sandwiches.

“The information was not hard to find, Thaddaeus simply looked into the Lord and Ladyship charter at the Ministry. You have to prove you are an ancestor of Slytherin with a simple blood heritage test, then try on the Slytherin Lord ring and speak the Slytherin family oath in Parseltongue, if the magic accepts you and settles in, you are declared Lord Slytherin.”

The Dark Lord looked stunned. “That is all?”

“Yes, my Lord.” The blond aristocrat confirmed. “But as we understood it, the family oath and the Lordship ring will test you for the family magic. Everyone who falsely tries to claim the Slytherin Lordship or who does not have enough family blood, will be severely punished. As my Lord already exhibits the most well-known family magic, Parseltongue, I don’t see that there will be a problem.”

“Excellent. After I claim the Slytherin Lordship, I will officially change my name to Marvolo Slytherin.”

They all emptied their teacups.

“Now, let’s proceed. I will move to Riddle Manor to take the potions after we have finished. Severus, please pack everything you think you will need from the potions lab and accompany me. Lucius, you should contact your own solicitor and prepare to bring your case in front of the Wizengamot in a few days. The best would be to start with my reasons for getting you out of Azkaban, it was solely for punishment at this time. Thaddaeus, stay for a few minutes, we have to craft a background story for my insanity and bodiless time.”

The Dark Lord smirked, satisfied with the situation so far.

Lucius and Severus stood up, bowed and left the room. While Thaddaeus prepared himself another cup of tea and started to fabricate a believable background story for the Dark Lord.

 

* * *

 

“But Mum, we just degnomed the gardens yesterday.” Ron complained as he followed his mother through the door into the kitchen.

“Yes, and they’re already back, so you and Ginny will degnome it again after lunch.” Mrs Weasley told her youngest son, hurrying through the kitchen to the oven to start preparing lunch. She stopped as she saw the package lying on the kitchen table.

“Ron did an owl arrive while I was out this morning?”

“No, but I was in my room most of the time and for the last two hours I was outside flying.”

Ron picked the package up and opened it, several letters fell out, all addressed in the same very familiar handwriting of his best friend. He picked the one with his name on it and turned it over, inspecting it. His mother looked through the rest of the pile, registering the names and frowned.

“Why would Harry write us this many letters? He knows he shouldn’t write at all, with You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters swarming around.” Mrs Weasley sounded unsure. “Perhaps we should wait till your father is back to read them, all together at the same time.”

Ron, who was in the process of opening the letter addressed to him, locked up.

“Why? Why can’t I read it now? Harry is my best mate, why shouldn’t I read a letter addressed to me?”

Mrs Weasley sighed.

“Is this the first time that Harry sent a letter this summer?”

“Yes.” Ron frowned.

“And so far, Harry has never written to every one of us at the same time. Why should he do now? And send them all together? It must be something important, and I don’t want to miss anything in these letters. Perhaps he needed to tell us something but could not write it down in a straightforward way. Instead he wrote all of us letters. There could be separate clues in every one of those. And perhaps we’ll have to contact Professor Dumbledore, depending on the content. I have an uneasy feeling about this, so I want to wait for your father.” Mrs Weasley told him sternly.

Ron sighed and placed the letter back on the kitchen table.

“Okay.”

“Be a dear and floo call your brothers. I want them here this evening. I want us all to read these letters at the same time and see if we can’t puzzle  together whatever is going on with Harry.”

Ron was halfway to the fireplace when he hesitated.

“But Mum, there is even a letter for Percy.” He spoke in a quiet voice.

Mrs Weasley, who had turned around and started to chop vegetables for lunch, paused.

“Send it with Errol to him but add a note and explain the situation.”

Ron looked at his mother’s back, gnawing on his lower lip. The situation with Percy was hard for his parents, especially his mother, together with the war breaking out and the happenings a few weeks ago at the Department of Mystery she was constantly worrying. Walking over to her, he briefly hugged her back and whispered: “Everything will be okay, you will see.” Then he left the kitchen to find parchment, quill and ink.

 

* * *

 

After arriving at Riddle Manor, Marvolo called for the house-elves Lucius had sent over earlier and asked which wing had been cleaned and was available. He did not like being at the Manor, but it was the only property available at the moment. He planned to go to Gringotts after gaining the Lordship to see if there were properties from the Slytherin inheritance available. He did not want to stay in Riddle Manor any longer than necessary. It was long past it’s glories days, dark and threatful.

Severus trailed silently behind him as he made his way to one of the cleaned chambers. He was surprised when he opened the door. The house-elves had worked wonders. The room was clean and smelled fresh, the fireplace was lit and the furniture looked used, but well kept. It was a spacious room, with big windows looking out over the gardens. A big soft cream coloured carpet muffled their steps. The seating area contained a small settee and two armchairs, all in darker tones.

Marvolo laid down on the settee, while Severus took one of the armchairs and placed the two potion vials on the table between them. The Potions Master then called one of the house-elves to bring tea and water.

“The detoxification will certainly dehydrate you, my Lord. It would be best to drink enough before taking the healing potion.”

Marvolo nodded in understanding, took the potion and emptied the vial in one swallow, then he laid down again and closed his eyes.

He could feel the potion moving down, settling into his stomach. A cold burning started to radiate through his body, centred somewhere in the middle of his body. He could practically feel the potion shifting through his blood stream, intruding into his muscles, bones and organs, searching and gathering all the remnants of the resurrection potion. 

 

* * *

 

Severus brought out a notebook and a quill. He would carefully watch and note down the effects of the potions. He had already placed his emergency potion kit beside his chair. He was fairly sure that he brewed the potions correctly, but because the healing part was such an unknown quantity he wanted to be prepared for everything.

The moment the detoxification began the Dark Lord went stiff, he tensed all his muscles and fisted his hands.

Severus knew it would not be pleasant and it would be so much worse if the man before him did not relax, so he opened his potions bag and brought out another vial. He opened it and heated the liquid inside with a quick warming charm. Then he put the vial on the table near the Dark Lords head and directed the fumes with his wand in his direction, making it possible for the man to inhale it with every breath he took.

After a few moments, the soothing and relaxing properties started working and the abused muscles relaxed while the body sank further into the cushions, letting the detox-potion work.

Severus settled back into his armchair and observed carefully. When the Dark Lord shuddered violently he conjured a bucket beside the settee. A few more shattered breaths and the Dark Lord leaned over and brought up everything the potion had found and removed from his body. It took several minutes before the red-eyed man leaned back on the settee, drawing rasping breaths, and nodded gratefully when Severus handed him a glass of water followed by a cup of tea with honey to sooth his throat.

“That was certainly not pleasant.” The Dark Lord rasped.

Severus only nodded and waited. The man before him sighed and reached for the other vial, emptying it again in one swallow.

The potion’s effect was immediate, the Dark Lord’s body shuddered, and his eyes rolled back and blacked out. Severus was at his side instantly, checking him for his vitals and was relieved to find them a little fast, perhaps, but strong.

Severus observed, fascinated how the body before him changed slowly. The nose grew, and the white complexion changed to a healthier colour- still pale, like he had not seen the sun in a long time, but with a light golden undertone. His figure filled out a little, enough to change from thin to slim. All in all, he looked entirely human again.

In the end, the healing process took far less time than Severus had anticipated. About an hour later, the man on the settee groaned and opened his eyes slowly. Severus noticed that they were still a dark red colour. It seemed the changed eye colour was not caused by the resurrection potion.

The Dark Lord slowly sat up and reached the pain-relieving potion Severus had placed on the table for him, drinking it gratefully.

Severus observed as the man conjured a small mirror and examined his reflection. The long, elegant fingers running over the bridge of his nose, together with the high cheekbones and well-formed brows gave his face aristocratic lines and made him quite handsome. He did not look older than thirty-five.

“It seemed the eyes are a result of the Horcruxes or perhaps the excessive use of Dark Magic.” The Dark Lord spoke, his voice which had already lost its hissing undertones due to the soul-piece merging, was now a deep and melodic baritone.

“Yes, it seems so, my Lord.” Severus hesitated. “If you want, I have a hair-lengthening potion at hand.”

The Dark Lord looked again in the mirror and ran his finger through the short dark curls.

“That would be beneficial.”

Severus placed another potions vial in front of the Dark Lord, who prepared himself another cup of tea and leaned back on the settee.

“That will be all for now Severus. You should return to Hogwarts or your own house, in case the Headmaster summons you. Come back when you have something noteworthy to report. I will call for you should I need you.” The Dark Lord dismissed him.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Severus stood up, bowed and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.
> 
> First published: 12th of September 2018  
> Last edited: 25th of November 2018


	9. The Head of the DMLE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe. 
> 
> **AN:** Thank you all for reading, bookmarking, subscribing and commenting and for all the kudos.
> 
> This chapter is now beta'ed by the wonderful a-bit-of-madness, many thanks and hugs to her.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Thaddaeus Nott, Lord of House Nott and renowned solicitor, took a deep breath, gathered his papers, threw floo powder into the fireplace, and stepped through to the Ministry of Magic.

This would be the most important, most satisfying case in his career. Not only would he be working openly for his Lord without someone screaming Death Eater at him, they would also get the better of the Minister, those cowards in the Wizengamot and Dumbledore.

He could not hide his smirk entirely, he felt like a school boy again on the first ride to Hogwarts, giddy with excitement.

Acknowledging acquaintances but not stopping on his way, he took the elevator to the DMLE. Stepping into the reception area of the office for the Head of DMLE, he greeted the secretary with a warm smile.

“Good Day to you, Gerta. You look lovely today.”

Madam Bones secretary, Gerta Wilkins, a middle-aged woman who was frighteningly efficient in her work, gave him a welcoming smile.

“Lord Nott, how nice to see you. What can I do for you today?”

“Is Madam Bones available? I have something very urgent to discuss with her.”

“She is in her office and her next appointment is in fifty-five minutes. One moment please, Lord Nott, I will check if she has time for you.” She smiled at him again, stood up and knocked shortly at the office door. Without waiting to be asked to come inside, she stepped in and closed it behind her.

Only seconds later the door opened again and Gerta stepped outside.

“She is available and waiting for you, Lord Nott.” She gestured to the open door and went back to her work.

Thaddaeus nodded gratefully and stepped into the office. It was a welcoming room done in light, creamy colours, with dark wooden furniture. On the left were two armchairs and a settee grouped in front of a fireplace, to the right, bookshelves and filing cabinets lined the wall, at the far end stood a massive desk in front of a large window.

Madam Bones sat behind her desk, stacked with parchments and looked up when she heard the door closing. She sent him a small smile and set aside her quill.

“Ah, Lord Nott. What a surprise, what can I do for you? Gerta said it was something urgent?”

Thaddaeus smiled back and tilted his head slightly in greeting, gathering his thoughts as he chose his words carefully.

“Madam Bones, thank you for speaking with me. It concerns a new client of mine, who is in quite a predicament. He wants to abide by the law, but he is concerned that due to his past and his identity, he will not be treated unbiased by the Wizengamot. He made some unfortunate decision and foolish mistakes in his youth, leading him down a very dark path, which he deeply regrets. He fears that because of this he would be instantly sentenced to the Kiss if he were to stand trial before the Wizengamot. We hope you, as the Head of the DMLE, could and would help us save him from being condemned because of something he had no control over. And as there is a group of people fixated on bringing him down, his case is quite urgent. You have the power to call in a Wizengamot session on short notice and are known for being fair and unbiased and therefore our best chance to enable a fair trial.”

Madam Bones listened with keen interest and Thaddaeus could practically see the gears turning in her head. She was known for being fair and sticking to the law, and that someone could be condemned unfairly violated her sense of justice.

“This sounds like your client is in quite a predicament.” She leaned back in her chair and regarded him with an intense look, betraying none of her thoughts.

Thaddaeus smiled pleasantly at her, excitement filling him. Madam Bones was intelligent and observant. She was well versed in the political game and played it well. It would not be easy to convince her, even with all their evidence – real and fake – and she would take everything they presented apart, trying to find the deceptions and gaps in their story.

He hadn’t had such an opponent in a long time, and she would make an immensely strong ally.

“Yes, he certainly is. May I tell you the details?” He still smiled at her.

“Certainly, Lord Nott. Please take a seat, I will call for tea.” Madam Bones stood up, gestured to the seating area in front the fireplace and walked to the door, presumably talking with her secretary.

Thaddaeus took a seat in one of the armchairs, while Madam Bones sat in the other one, a few moments later Gerta stepped into the office and placed a tea set at the small table between them.

“Thank you Gerta,” Madam Bones smiled at her “Will you please inform Mister Worthington that his appointment needs to be moved to tomorrow? I have the feeling this will take some time.”

“Certainly, Madam Bones.” Gerta nodded and left the office, closing the door behind her.

Madam Bones waited till both of them had prepared their tea, then she settled into her armchair and indicated for him to carry on.

Thaddaeus took a sip from his teacup and started to tell her the story his Lord and himself had put together an hour ago.

“Let me first tell you background story of my client. As a child, he was orphaned and grew up in Muggle London during the last Muggle war. It left him with a deep fear of death. When he came to Hogwarts, he thought he could escape the violence, but his request to stay at Hogwarts during the summer was refused every time, and the war with Grindelwald only deepened his fear. Nevertheless, my client loved Hogwarts and still calls it his first real home. He graduated with impressive N.E.W.T.s and applied for the Defence position there. He was ambitious, but he always wanted to give something back to Hogwarts. Teaching there, helping children - perhaps even some who, like him, were orphaned or needed help to find their way in the magical world- called to him. But as he was told he was too young, Headmaster Dippert suggested that he gain experience and then come back. Taking the Headmaster’s advice, he decided to travel the world, and as he was interested in obscure, ancient and forgotten magic, he visited old ruins and isolated magical areas.”

Thaddaeus observed Madam Bones expression carefully, without staring too obviously. So far, nothing he had told was exactly a lie. She listened with a calm expression, not even hinting if she had a guess who his client was.

“He told me that he lived with an old tribe in India, rumours were that they practiced old and forgotten magical rituals. Not all of them were magical, the villages he lived in were equally habituated by magical and non-magical residents. They were normally suspicious of strangers, but after staying more than a year, they welcomed him and allowed him to observe their rituals and learn magic from them.”

Thaddaeus swirled the tea in his teacup and took a sip. Now came the part he was not sure if his Lord had lied about or not.

“Near their village was an old cavern filled with enticing dark magic, trying to lure everyone who stepped near it inside. The villagers had warned him about it, but one day he got lost on his way back to the village and felt the pull. As he is a natural Occlumence, he could resist the lure, but he knew that this cavern was a constant danger to the village, especially to the children. Many had followed the pull into the cavern and were never seen again.” He sighed. “My client was young, only just out of Hogwarts, but he knew he was powerful. He decided to investigate the cavern, hoping to find a way to dispel the dark malicious magic, and remove the danger for the village. He himself said he was too arrogant at that time, young and foolish.”

Thaddaeus could see that Madam Bones was definitely intrigued by the story.

“He went into the cavern, and he found… not really dark magic, he described it as a mesmerising, powerful presence, filled with malice and a dark hunger under the enchanting surface. My client does not know if it was a curse, a dark magical object or residue from a dark ritual. He described it as if it had a mind of his own. He had never heard or encountered something similar ever again. Our theory so far, is that it could have been a residue from a powerful and malicious magical being which died in the cavern. What he remembers, is that this malicious presence took hold of him, invaded him. It settled into his mind, leaving the cavern clean and empty. My client stumbled back to the village and was ill for a few days. Afterwards it first seemed like nothing was amiss. He stayed in India for a few more weeks and then left, to see more of the world.”

He placed his teacup on the table and folded his legs, resting his hands on his knee.

“What he did not realize at that time, was that the presence changed him. This _thing_ took hold of his mind, feasted on his fears and his ambition, feeding him dark thoughts. He grew paranoid, searching all over the world for more power. This _thing_ took his fear of death and twisted it, making him obsessed with immortality. He spiralled into insanity, hungry for more power. In this state my client was not himself anymore, he had no control over his mind and his actions.”

Thaddaeus gave Madam Bones a moment to process everything so far. He could see that they had her interest and her compassion for a young man who seemingly suffered because of understandable foolishness.

“At this point my client came back to Britain and applied for the Defence Professor position again, he wanted to change wizarding Britain so that no child had to grow up like him. At this point there was still enough of him left to see the stagnation the magical society was content with, and he wanted to change this. But Headmaster Dippert had resigned and Headmaster Dumbledore refused him the post. The refusal fractured his already damaged mind even more, he always had thought as Hogwarts as his home and now it was taken away from him. He threw away his birthname and started to gather followers under an alias. The further he fell into insanity the more his goals were twisted. He performed rituals which should never be performed to obtain more power, changing and fracturing his mind and body nearly beyond repair. He grew violent. In the end, the foolish mistake of a young man named Tom Marvolo Riddle, led to the rise of Lord Voldemort.”

The only indication that Madam Bones was shocked by the whole story was a brief widening of her eyes. She had listened intently so far, letting him speak without interruption. But now Thaddaeus could see thousands of questions in her eyes.

“Fifteen years ago, his paranoia was at its peak and he heard of a prophecy. A prophecy about a child destined to end him, or so he thought. He decided to take care of the threat immediately. At this point, he had slipped so deep into the dark arts, he was disfigured and completely insane. So, on the 31st of October 1981, he entered into the Potter family home in Godric’s Hollow and attempted to kill the entire family little Harry Potter somehow survived and Lord Voldemort disappeared, but not completely. My client remembers that he had performed a ritual, days before, anchoring his live force and magic. So only his body was destroyed on this night, the anchor he used was destroyed instead of his spirit. He was cast out of his body and fled, as a spirit.”

Thaddaeus gave her a few moments to gather her thoughts. It was clear he was not finished, but the situation was too delicate to rush.

“My client does not remember much from his time as a bodiless spirit, but what he does know is the malicious presence was destroyed with his body., His mind was still fractured, however, leaving him insane, the damage was too severe. Two years ago, he was found by an old follower. He regained a temporary body, but the insanity took him over even in this new form. They forged a plan to get him his old body back, which was successfully executed on the day of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Lord Voldemort rose again, still powerful, still violent and still insane.”

“An interesting story. But why, Lord Nott, are you coming to me with it?” Madam Bones interrupted him for the first time, her expression carefully blank, not giving away her thoughts on the matter even one bit.

“Because the incident in the Ministry a few weeks ago had unpredictable consequences, which led to Mr. Riddle realising what had happened. He sought out help and regained his sanity and human body. Lord Voldemort is no more. But Tom Marvolo Riddle will be condemned for crimes he was not responsible for.”

 

* * *

 

Severus heard the fireplace in his living room come to life and knew it could be only one person calling.

“Severus, my boy, are you there?” The unmistakable voice of the Headmaster called through the Floo connection.

Sighing, Severus set his teacup and newspaper aside and walked from the kitchen to the fireplace.

He already knew what this would be about- the letter from Potter. Even during the summer holidays, he could not escape the brat. At least this time, besides doing something dangerous or breaking rules, the outcome was interesting and beneficial to Severus.

“Yes, Albus. I am here.” He acknowledged the old wizard.

Albus’ head in the fireplace looked in his direction and smiled.

“Ah, wonderful. If you have the time, could you please come through? I have something to discuss with you.” The look the Headmaster sent him told him how important the matter was.

Severus sneered mentally, but he also was curious. What did Potter write in his letter to the Headmaster? Did he mention he wrote a letter to Severus? It was not likely that he did, so the Headmaster would believe him completely ignorant of the matter.

“Certainly. Give me a moment.”

“Wonderful,” Albus head disappeared.

Mentally preparing himself, Severus threw Floo powder into the fireplace and called out the Headmaster’s office.

As he stepped through, he saw Albus already sitting at his desk. “Severus have a seat. Lemon drop?”

Mentally sneering, he declined the offered sweet and sat in one of the chairs in front of Albus desk. “What do you want to discuss with me? As you know, the summer holidays are the only time I can freely dedicate myself to potions brewing and research.”

“Ah yes, and I am sorry to separate you from your potions research, but yesterday I got a very concerning letter from Harry.” Albus looked over his halfmoon-glasses at him with a troubled expression.

“You called me here to discuss a letter from _Potter_?” Severus sneered the name in disgust. He still did not like the boy, and he was sure he never would. Even if his recent actions had been beneficial to Severus, and he had shown some intelligence and cunning, that he took actions without consulting an adult only showed the arrogance of the boy. He would protect him, for Lily and for the oath, but if the Dark Lord did leave him be, his job would be easier and his contact with the boy would minimise. He was looking forward to it.

“What did Potter have to say? Whining about the hot weather? That he was not allowed to stay with his friends yet? That he stubbed his toe?” He sneered.

 Albus looked disappointed with him at this, but Severus could not care less.

“I really had hoped that the Occlumency lessons had brought an understanding between the two of you. But alas, I did not call you here to talk about what could have been,” the Headmaster sighed.

“No, Harry sent me a letter in which he told me that he found a way to bring back Tom’s sanity and that he already went through with it. It concerns me that Harry did not consult with me in that matter, but after the last school year I should not be too surprised by it. He does not trust me completely anymore, I fear. As I don’t know how exactly Harry has healed Voldemort of his insanity, and till I got the letter I had not thought it was even possible, I am reluctant to believe it completely. And even if it is the case, Tom is still alive. With his sanity undamaged, I fear he will be an even greater threat. I am sure he will not change his ways. Even as a child and teenager he already was ruthless and sadistic. We must determine if Tom has his sanity back and how this changes him and his plans, and we must find out how Harry managed to do it. He wishes to be left alone by me, but perhaps someone else could visit him.”  The Headmaster shook his head sadly. “I just don’t know who to send.”

“You want me to go?” Severus asked him, astonished. He had not thought Albus to be this oblivious of the relationship between himself and Potter.

“No, Merlin no. I know Harry would only react badly if I sent you. I thought perhaps Remus or Minerva.”

Severus nodded, relieved and watched Albus intensely.

“Severus, did Tom send for you?” Albus enquired with an odd look in his eyes, devoid of the trademark twinkle.

Severus thought fast. If he affirmed that he had been called, Albus would asked why he did not report immediately and his Lord had not told him what he was allowed to tell the Headmaster.

“So far the Dark Lord did not send for me, but if what you say is true, I am sure he will set a meeting with his inner circle soon. How sure are you, Headmaster, that the letter was not a prank or that Potter made things up to gain attention?” Severus kept his face blank.

Albus sighed. “I am sure that Harry would not lie to me in this matter. Please, Severus, my boy, report immediately if you hear from Tom. Now, who do…”

The fireplace in the Headmaster’s office flared up.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, your attendance is needed in an emergency Wizengamot meeting in thirty minutes.” An official sounding voice rang through the office.

Severus smiled inwardly, it seemed Thaddaeus had been successful. If everything went as they wanted, his Lord would be a normal citizen in a few hours and could claim the title of Lord Slytherin. Everything would change.

He only wished he could be present at the trial to see Albus’ face when his Lord was declared not guilty and free to go.

He looked at Albus as the fire died down. The Headmaster looked startled, it seemed he had not anticipated what the next actions of a sane Dark Lord would be and that he would move so fast. They had counted on this. Albus was oblivious.

“I am sorry, Severus. As you heard I am needed at the Ministry. We will resume this conversation tomorrow morning. Perhaps I will call for an Order meeting.” Albus stood and walked to door leading to Headmaster residence.

“Then I will take my leave, Albus.”

Severus did not wait for Albus to answer but stepped though the Floo network back home. He could not supress a small smile, it seemed everything was proceeding like his Lord wanted.

Theoretically he should report to his Lord about the meeting with Albus, but as his Lord was in the Ministry now, he decided to go to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa would attend the Wizengamot meeting as a proxy for her – theoretically - absent husband and could tell him how everything went after he returned.

Meanwhile, he would drink some tea, or something stronger with Lucius and ask Draco if he wanted to join him at brewing.

He had not spent a lot of time with his Godson since the holiday’s had started.

 

* * *

 

Amelia Bones had thought nothing could surprise her anymore, after years of working as the Head of DMLE and sitting in trials minor and major ones, but the story Lord Nott had told her and the evidence he had brought with him, certainly took her by surprise.

She knew the moment Lord Nott revealed the name of his client what they wanted from her, knew why they would come to her. She was known for upholding the law to the letter. But she also knew that the law could be used and interpreted unjustly, and she recognized manipulation when she saw it.

She was uncertain what she should think about the case in front of her. The story was believable, but also suspicious. Who could believe that the evilest Dark Wizard had only acted because of insanity? And that said insanity was induced by some dark magic?

Could she believe that Lord Voldemort was only a fabrication born from a shattered mind and dark magic?

Could she believe that the man named Tom Riddle was innocent of what he had done while being Lord Voldemort?

Of course she couldn’t, not a hundred percent, but the evidence Lord Nott lay before her spoke for itself.

Even she was not completely unbiased when it came to Voldemort, she had lost loved ones in the last war, but she was professional enough to push her own feelings for the matter aside and look at the evidence as if it was any other case.

She carefully read through the medical report done by Healer Aurora Fawley, a young but already renowned healer working at St. Mungos, specialising in the healing of dark curses and their influence on the mind. The report entailed that residues of dark magic had been found while examining Mr Riddle earlier that day, but they were fading. More in-depth examination had revealed that Mr Riddle’s mind had been fractured at a young age by malicious magic but was healing now and was no longer touched by whatever magic had caused this. The report concluded that Mr Riddle had been mentally ill because of the malicious magic but was now healthy in mind and body. 

The Pensieve memories Lord Nott had brought with him further confirmed what he had told her, and what the medical report implied. The memories from Tom Riddle as a teenager were all clear, showing an intelligent and ambitious young man, touched by the fear of two wars, magical and muggle. The time in India showed him to be patient, grateful and eager to discover other magical ways. The memories from the cave where disturbing, so dark and full of fear that it was hard to see anything clearly. The memories afterwards all had a dark edge, like a shadow lurking at the periphery of their awareness.

The memories grew misty and darker with time. Amelia could see how this dark shadow influenced the young and eager mind at its mercy. Tom Riddle’s actions and thoughts grew volatile, erratic, and after his return to Great Britain, violent. Not only his appearance, but also his mind changed dramatically till nothing was left of the young and intelligent man from before.

There were not many memories from his time as a bodiless spirit, and those were even harder to understand than the ones from the insane Dark Lord. The mist of insanity did not lift, even after he had a body again, but the dark shadow was gone from those memories.

One memory stood out from all the others, because of the clarity. When Lord Voldemort possessed Harry Potter in the Ministry of Magic by some dark magic apparently, the connection to a complete and sane mind, and someone so young and innocent, lifted the insanity briefly in Voldemort’s mind.

In that short moment, Tom Riddle realized the fractures in his own mind, and even as the insanity crept back in, ordered his followers to, not only put him into a magical coma, but also to find a cure against magical induced insanity and heal his fractured mind.

The last memory was from a Tom Riddle, waking up for the first time since his early twenties with a clear mind and the horrifying memories of what Lord Voldemort had done.

Coming out of the Pensieve she had stored in her office, Amelia could not disregard the evidence before her and when Lord Nott started to explain the law of Haxby to her, she knew what she had to do. Even if in her heart she could not believe that Tom Riddle was not Lord Voldemort, the hard evidence before her did not allow any other action.

She immediately called for an emergency Wizengamot session and trial and ordered Lord Nott to bring in his client.

Lord Nott left through her fireplace and came back only moments later. His client seemingly had waited for his call.

When the figure stepped into her office, Amelia scrutinized him curiously. He certainly looked nothing like the reports described Lord Voldemort to look.

Short dark locks carefully styled around his handsome aristocratic face, his dark eyes settling on her as he greeted her with a small smile. He was tall and did not look older then mid-thirty.

“Greetings, Madam Bones. I appreciate your giving me the chance to present my case.” His voice was a rich baritone and Amelia felt herself relaxing slightly. He did not sound like a madman.

“Certainly, Mr Riddle. The evidence Lord Nott presented was very convincing. I already called in a Wizengamot meeting, which is set to begin in thirty minutes. In this time, I wish to speak to you myself and, if you are willing, learn some more details of your story from yourself.”

“I am at your service, Madam Bones. I have no secrets and everything that helps the esteemed Wizengamot members to be convinced of my innocence, I am more than willing to tell you.”

Amelia gestured to the seating area and settled herself in her armchair again, watching her two guests taking their seats.

In the next thirty minutes she would determine for herself if Mr Riddle was sincere or not.

 

* * *

 

Harry looked up from the picture he was drawing as he heard the rustle of feathers. Hedwig had returned a few hours ago and after something to drink, had hid her head under her wing and slept.

Harry had actually tried to write his memoirs but had lost interest fast, instead he started drawing. He drew Hogwarts how it looked in his mind- his friends, his teacher, parts of his nightmares and scenes from his adventures in Hogwarts, and Hedwig as she slept.

But now she was awake and landed on his shoulder, crooking her head.

Harry laughed and held up the picture of her he’d tried to draw.

“I know, definitely not a masterpiece, but at least you can tell it’s an owl.”

Hedwig hooted in conformation, or at least Harry interpreted it as such.

“Had a nice sleep?” He set the picture aside and stroke her feathers softly.

“Up for another trip this afternoon?” He stood up and walked to the desk, looking over the small number of letters left and picked up four of them.

“Mmh… I think we can send these together.” Hedwig hopped on the desk and held up her leg. After Harry secured the letters, she slipped through the gaps between the bars on his window and took flight.

Harry went back to sit at his desk and started on another drawing.

 

* * *

 

Sometime around noon a house-elf had brought him sandwiches for lunch, on which Draco had nibbled while reading through a stack of books-at least he thought it was lunch, he wasn’t  sure.

He had taken over the reading desk, but the space on the table had been completely filled with books after a short time. Now the floor around him resembled a labyrinth made of books.

Draco sipped on a goblet of water as he turned a page of the book he was reading in the moment, paused and grabbed a quill and parchment starting to scribble frantically. Turning to the next page, he frowned and flung the book away, snarling.

He stood up and walked to the bookshelves, gripping his hair in frustration.

Somewhere there had to be something helpful.

He wandered deeper into the library, to one of the darker sections.

A small, leather-bound book caught his attention. The title written on the inside proclaimed it to be about the combination of wards, sacrificial protection and blood magic.

Potter had written something about blood wards and his mother’s sacrifice protecting him.

Even if Draco found a way to share his knowledge with someone, would these wards allow them to step through?

The Horcrux problem could be solved later, after he had made sure that the imbecile lived.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.
> 
> First published: 24th of September 2018  
> Last edited: 6th of December 2018


	10. Ron's letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe. 
> 
> **AN:** Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and commenting. And for all the kudos! You all deserve hugs and salted-caramel ice-cream. 
> 
> In the last weeks my beta, a-bit-of-madness, and I edited the nine chapters so far and finally we caught up and can present you a new AND already beta’ed chapter. 
> 
> Many many thanks and hugs for a-bit-of-madness, with her help I think the story is flowing so much better.
> 
> I only wanted to say that I am still working on all my stories, but November is a really emotional bad month because of the unexpected death of a young family member two years ago, therefore I only had the energy to go over the beta’ed chapters a-bit-of-madness send me and edit them. But now I am on a four weeks holiday from my very demanding job and can relax and I hope to get back on track.
> 
> Have fun reading and I wish you all a wonderful Christmas time.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Severus found Lucius in his favourite tea room of Malfoy Manor, parchments in hand and tea at his side.

“Lucius, care for company?”

The blond looked up, greeted him with a nod and a gesture to sit down, while putting his reading material on top of a pile of parchment and books covering a side table.

“Work?” Severus eyed the parchment.

“In a way. I looked through everything I need to give to my solicitor to present my case in front of the Wizengamot. Depending on the outcome of today’s trial I will contact him tomorrow.”

“How do you think the Wizengamot session will go?” Severus enquired, calling for a house-elf to bring him some coffee with a shot of rum - he needed something stronger then tea in the moment.

“Long and nasty,” Lucius said with a grin. “I have no doubt that Dumbledore will try to take control of the trial the moment he realizes who is standing before him and try to find a loophole in the law to prevent our Lord from being declared innocent. But having Madam Bones on our side is certainly an advantage. She convened this emergency meeting and will present the case. That she was willing to do it immediately shows the evidence Lord Nott presented her with was at least good enough to warrant a trial, if not totally convincing. I am sure she is highly displeased with our Lord, but she will see that the law is followed to the letter.” Lucius smirked.

“It could also mean that Madam Bones wanted to take the opportunity to bring our Lord to justice,” Severus pointed out.

“I think it is both, but in the end, she will see that the law is upheld, and I doubt that our Lord would have went this way without one hundred percent fool proof evidence.”

Severus sighed and sipped his coffee, the warmth of the drink and the alcohol soothing his nerves. “I really hope so, my friend.”

They sat together and talked about Severus newest research interest and Lucius’ plan to invest in a new, young racing broom company. At one point a house-elf brought the afternoon tea, with sandwiches, pastries and cake.

“Tell my son that his godfather is here and that we are having afternoon tea. We would appreciate his presence.” Lucius addressed the house-elf, who’s huge eyes became even larger as she interlocked her long fingers in worry.

“Tally can’t do this. Tally is sorry. Tally can’t follow master’s orders.” The house-elf’s voice pitched and quivered.

“Why not?” Lucius snapped at her impatiently.

Severus sighed as Lucius snapped at the elf. The man had no patience for house-elves who did not follow orders immediately, even if they had a good reason not to, or with house-elves in general.

Narcissa was the one who had the most contact with their house-elves. She oversaw the household, the household budget, the daily work, the workers and house-elves and the punishments if one was needed. He never bothered with the elves as long as they did their job adequately and followed his orders.

But if they dared to disobey him, he was known to lose his temper. Disobedience was something Lucius could not tolerate or handle, especially from someone so far beneath his notice. Severus always had the impression that servants and house-elves were on equal level to the furniture, if furniture could talk, for Lucius. He spared them no thoughts and had never understood that a happy and well-treated servant was a loyal servant.

Severus had thought that the blonde had at least learned after the debacle with one of his house-elves a few years ago. He did not know exactly what had happened, only that the elf disappeared afterwards, and that Potter had been somehow involved. Potter again…

Severus shook his head and shifted his attention back to the house-elf.

“Master Draco has locked himself in the Library. Tally’s bringing him food but not allowed to disturb further. Master Draco’s orders. He’s not to be disturbed.”

At least Narcissa had managed to teach her house-elves better speech patterns than the average house-elf, for which Severus was grateful. The Hogwarts elves often caused him a headache.

Lucius looked surprised. “Locked in the Library?”

The elf nodded, and his big ears flopped up and down. “Yes, Master Lucius.”

“To do what?”

“Tally does not know. Master Draco not telling.”

Lucius exchanged a glance with Severus and waved the house-elf away.

“Perhaps some especially difficult homework?” The blond mused, Severus could not supress a snort at that and reached for the teapot to pour himself a cup, adding a lemon and a little bit sugar to it.

“Please, Lucius, you know that Draco is one of the top students in his year and I know what summer homework was assigned. He told me last week that he finished it all already. Perhaps an individual or private project?”

“Easiest way to find out would be to ask him.”

“You know your son. If he is obsessing over something he will not be in a good mood when interrupted. Let’s wait till Dinner, if he has not emerged from the Library by then, we will talk with him. I do not want to encounter an angry Draco. He will be ranting and whining if we disturb him in whatever he is obsessed with in the moment.” Severus shuddered a little.

Draco’s tantrums were as legendary as his obsessions.

Lucius inclined his head, then smirked at his friend. “Do you remember when he was five and was absolutely certain that you were a vampire?”

Severus laughed. “Oh yes, he was completely convinced with the idea. Followed me whenever he could and tried to explain that I did not realize it so far. He went so far as to forbid me to go outside in fear I would crumble to ashes under the sun.”

Both men laughed at the memory.

“Or when he was ten and certain you had Veela ancestors?” Severus grinned and took a sip of his tea.

“Oh yes, I remember that particular phase. Drove Narcissa and I absolutely mad. He barricaded himself in the library and went through all the Malfoy family records. He was devasted when he could not find Veelas in our family tree.” Lucius smiled. “Didn’t speak with us for days, as if it was our fault.”

“But the biggest obsession so far is certainly Potter, it’s been going for five years now and even as a child he loved to hear the stories of _Harry Potter_ ,” the Potions Master sneered. “He can’t leave him alone in school, always tries to get a reaction out of Potter, always tries to be better. This bloody school rivalry destroyed more than one cauldron during my class. Why Draco wants the attention of Potter is beyond me. I certainly would be happy to never have to interact with the arrogant prat ever again.”

Lucius groaned. “Don’t remind me.  Every letter since first-year Potter is mentioned at least twice, complaining and whining about him. It certainly doesn’t sound like a typical school rivalry relationship. If Potter had been a girl, or grown up in the old ways, I already would have contacted his guardians and negotiated a betrothal contract with them, just to get Draco to shut up.”

“Merlin forbid!” Severus looked horrified by the mere idea. Lucius only laughed at him.

“What? Draco’s letters really sound more like he is trying to pull Potter’s pigtails.” Lucius’ expression grew pensive. “Now that Potter is under the protection of our Lord, perhaps I can stir Draco to start a friendship with him. Even if our Lord is sane now, after the disaster at the Ministry the Malfoy’s standing in the inner circle is a little shaken. And as we have to play our role of being forced into his service for the public, it would not hurt to be on better terms with Potter.”

Severus still looked horrified at his friend. “But Potter wants to disappear.”

“You think Dumbledore and our Lord will allow this? He is our Lord’s Horcrux. Yes, he wrote he would try to destroy it, but if he really could he would have done it already. Why would he carry a soul-shard of his parents’ murderer with him for longer than needed? He would have gotten rid of it at the first possibility. But he did not, he kept it, and sent all the other soul pieces back. As he is a living being like Nagini, with their own souls, I don’t think you can separate the soul-shard from the carrier’s soul. To destroy such a Horcrux you would have to…” Lucius’ head snapped wide-eyed to Severus, who frowned not catching on immediately.

Then realization hit him. “You don’t think he will…?”

“What do you think, Severus? You know the boy better than me.”

Severus pondered several moments about this.

“No… no, I don’t think Potter would go this far. He is much too Gryffindor for this. He is too arrogant, he has all this fame and bathes in it. Why should he throw it away? He has his adoring fans and everything. Why should he throw away his perfect little life? Nothing so far hinted that Potter has suicidal tendencies, neither how he behaves at school and nor anything he put in his letter.” Severus assured his friend and himself, but he saw that Lucius was not completely convinced and a nagging feeling, that they had overlooked something, remained in Severus.

They were silent for a few minutes, eating sandwiches and drinking tea. Then Lucius looked at the grandfather clock and grinned.

“They should be in the middle of the meeting by now. I wish I could have witnessed Dumbledore’s face when our Lord walked into the chamber, I’m certain it was priceless.”

Severus chuckled. “It would have definitely made my day.”

 

* * *

 

Marvolo walked behind Thaddaeus and Madam Bones to the trial chambers of the Wizengamot. The talk with Madam Bones had gone very well.

Oh, he saw how she struggled with herself, with her hate for the name Lord Voldemort, and tried to separate him from the wizard who had terrorized wizarding Britain for so long and killed members of her family. She was not succeeding entirely.

He also saw that she was displeased when she couldn’t find any fault in their evidence, or his behaviour. There had been a nearly murderous glint in her eyes when she realized that she couldn’t find anything to convict the man who had been Voldemort.

But he also had seen her will to uphold the law, despite her suspicion and personal opinion.

The background story he had spun with Lord Nott was perfect, after all the best lies always contained more than half the truth.

The medical report had not been hard to produce. After Severus had left, Marvolo had called one of his minor Death Eaters, Henley Fawley. He had put on glamours to look snake-like again and ordered him to bring his younger sister, Healer Aurora Fawley. The man had been terrified but had obeyed.

Miss Fawley was not a marked Death Eater, but her brother, her father and her uncle were, and she had helped previously when healing had been needed. She was not his usual healer, but Marvolo had remembered she specialised in dark curses and mind magic.

The young woman had been revolted by his appearance and had a hard time hiding it, which he could not fault her for, and had sworn an oath of secrecy on her life and that of her family. Then everything had been taken care of rather quickly. He had dissipated the glamours, explained to her what he wanted and needed in the medical report, and had even explained the soul splitting to a certain degree, as she performed the necessary medical screening spells.

It was not a surprise that the Horcruxes had left some residue dark magic, so all in all the medical report had not been modified much and was quite accurate.

The Pensieve memories were a different matter altogether. It was very hard to tamper with memories.

The trick was not to change something obvious in the memory, but to disperse the parts nobody should see and put something from another memory in their place. The memories couldn’t be artificial, as it would never look natural, but merging one or two memories to fill the gaps left by the vanished parts formed natural looking memories, because everything used _was_ natural, even if they did not originally belong together.

Only a wizard with exceptional skills in Legilimency _and_ Occlumency could ever even try to attempt this, thankfully Marvolo was just such a wizard.

Nobody but himself knew the difference between the real memories and the fabricated ones, and it hadn’t looked like Madame Bones or Lord Nott, who had watched them before he went to the Ministry, had noticed anything suspicious.

He had visited India once and even the half-muggle, half-magical village- which had been utterly disgusting. There had even been a cave, but he only had found a dark grimoire in it. Nothing of interest.

The memories containing the incidents in the Ministry and afterwards were harder to put together, because even while possessing Potter he had not realized his own insanity.

He had actually pondered quite a while how to fabricate them, but in the end the solution was as simple as it was brilliant.

He had contact with a sane mind and a whole soul during the possession, and he had seen some of Potters memories, especially as he drove him out with his ridiculously overwhelming feelings.

How someone could feel so much and not go insane was beyond him, even now, when he himself had his ability to feel emotions back, he shuddered a little at the memory. The emotions filling the boy had been so overwhelming and uncontrolled, like a brewing storm, if he had lingered any longer, he was sure he would have been swept away.

He simply used some of the feelings and memories from Potter to fill in the gaps, as they were his own and showed how he had seemingly regained his sanity due to the contact with the boy.

It had worked brilliantly, and Marvolo had a hard time suppressing the smug smile. He needed to maintain his calm mask. It would do him no good to look too confident, or arrogant.

This was important, his whole demeanour would have to be perfect. He had to convince them that he was shocked and felt responsible for the things Lord Voldemort had done, but that nothing that had transpired had been his choice.

The Wizengamot members were already seated when they entered the chambers, and Marvolo’s gaze swept over the faces quickly. Narcissa was sitting on the Malfoy seat, just as he’d anticipated, but he didn’t linger on her, only continued to find the one face he wanted to see.

Ah, there…

Dumbledore’s face was priceless as he caught sight of who entered with Madam Bones and Lord Nott.

The old man went very pale, his mouth opened in shock, or perhaps because he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Marvolo was not even sure if he was breathing.  
Oh, how he wished the old goat would choke on one of his lemon drops.

He settled beside Lord Nott on one of the two chairs in the middle of the court room, Madam Bones took her own assigned seat, prepared to explain the reason for the emergency meeting.

Dumbledore, as it seemed, had found his breath again and stood up from his seat.

“Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore calls the seventh Emergency Wizengamot meeting in the year 1996 into order.” He tapped his wand thrice on the Wizengamot sign on the desk before him. Wards sprung up and closed the chambers off. Nobody would be able to enter or leave now, either by muggle or magical means.

Dumbledore took his seat and gestured to Madam Bones, seemingly calm and collected, but Marvolo saw the flicker in his eyes and how he tried not to look at him.

Good, it seemed Potter had informed the Headmaster that he had tried to give him back his sanity, but Dumbledore appeared unsure as to if he should believe the boy. The old man tried to gauge if he was sane or not and he was unsure. Was Lord Voldemort sitting before him or Tom Riddle?

He would be in for a surprise, because Marvolo had decided, that he was neither.

“Madam Bones, you have the floor.”

Marvolo heard the slight quiver in the old man’s voice and smiled inwardly.

Let’s see what other reactions he could bring forth from Dumbledore.

 

* * *

 

Ron glanced around the corner to the open kitchen door, straining to hear where his mother was. The kitchen was silent and when he stepped inside, he saw it was empty. After lunch, his mother had made him degnome the garden – again, and then sent him to do his summer homework, but he could not concentrate. His mind just kept drifting to the pile of letters from Harry.  It was so strange and out of character for his best friend. Yes, they exchanged letters, but Harry had never written to all the members of his family. And so many letters the same time?

Technically he shouldn’t be sending any letters at all, but Ron knew that Harry was going crazy at the Dursley’s, like last summer when nobody had contacted him. When Harry had exploded shortly after arriving at Grimmauld place, Ron had realized how forgotten and abandoned his best mate had felt.

And now – now Harry was left alone again, after losing Sirius.

Ron shook his head, he did not understand the Headmaster’s decision to send Harry back to the Dursley’s and remind them to keep sending letters to a minimum. Did he not realize the damage it would do?

They had told him that it was a bad idea. That Harry needed to be with people who love him, who understood his grief for his godfather, but Dumbledore had only assured them that Harry would have all the support and peace he needed at home.

As if home was with the Dursley’s, Ron snorted silently and shook his head. He knew something was not right and he was worried. The pile of letters only confirmed it.

So, where did his mother put the letters? She had picked the pile up before setting the table for lunch, but where did she put them?

Ron glanced around the kitchen, his eyes finding the drawer where his mother often put magazines, newspapers or correspondence which had been laying on the kitchen table. The letters lay on top of today’s newspapers and Ron quickly grabbed the one meant for him, closed the drawer and left the kitchen, the letter hiding in his pocket.

When he was safely in his room, he opened it, unfolded the parchment and settled on his bed to read.

_Dear Ron_

_I am sure you are wondering why I am writing to you and your family. Let’s say it’s complicated._

_First, I must confess something. You remember when we were sitting in the hospital wing at the end of the term? Hermione mentioned the prophecy and that it was a pity it broke._

_I couldn’t tell you in that moment, but it didn’t matter that it broke. Dumbledore told me what it contained, because he knew the content all along. He was present when it was spoken. He told me after we came back from the Ministry._

_It talks about the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, born to those who defied him thrice, born at the end of July. It says the Dark Lord will mark him and that neither can live while the other survives._

_The gist of it, is that I either will be killed or have to kill Voldemort._

_Voldemort had only heard parts of it, that was the reason he attacked on Halloween fifteen years ago and because it backfired, he is – or was – obsessed with learning the whole content._

_But Ron, I found a way to fulfil the prophecy without becoming a murderer!_

_I am sure Dumbledore would have never agreed with my plan, so I told no one and went ahead with it. If you read this, it means I was successful._

_The great snake-face is no more, I vanquished him, like the prophecy told._

_It does not mean he is dead. You know I am no murderer._

_I simply vanquished the safety net he had set up to prevent himself from dying, and I found a way to give him back his sanity._

_The safety net he had built was based on parts of his soul, split from the main part and stored in objects, which led to insanity and dehumanization. I found a way to destroy these objects and the soul shards merging with the original one in his body did the rest._

_There is only a soul piece left in Nagini, which can only be removed by killing her._

_Even if he is an arrogant, power-hungry and sadistic git by nature, he is at least nearly mortal again and can comprehend the shit he’s done._

_Not even he can approve of the methods he had used to follow his goals. You know I was in his head a lot last school year. So, all the pain and the horrible visions were good for something in the end, because without the connection I would have never found the method to vanquish Lord Voldemort._

_The connection via my scar is based on his unstable soul and the killing curse I survived and is also part of this safety net he built, even if it was unintentional._

_I will attempt to sever the connection shortly. I want to be completely free of everything. The connection will be destroyed, the prophecy fulfilled, and I hope, Riddle will stop being so homicidal._

_If not, kill the snake. Then Riddle will be mortal again, and the Order can defeat him._

_So, let’s see how he will behave. He was actually a real bastard down in the chamber, but that was only a part of his soul, and I’m not sure how sane it was after being enclosed in a diary for so long._

_I know it’s not the perfect solution, but the only other would have been for me to kill him. And yes, he may be the murderer of my parents and so many other people, but still, the thought of killing another living being did not sit well with me._

_I mean, I couldn’t even work up enough hatred to cast a successful_ Crucio _at Bellatrix, and she killed Sirius._

_That’s not the only reason I’m writing you, though. I… it’s really hard to spell it out, but I’m going to try._

_Ron, I can’t take it anymore. I had a lot of time to think here at the Dursley’s without any contact to a decent human._

_Now that it’s out that I in fact did **not** lie the whole last year, I am sure the hero worship will sky rocket. I hate it. One second, I’m crazy and going evil, and in the next I am their hero again. I can’t take it anymore._

_Additionally, I found out some hard truths about Dumbledore and as much as I love and respect him, there are just some things I can’t forgive, and I can’t stand the thought of having to face him. It’s as much his fault as it is mine, that Sirius died._

_He made so many mistakes, while making decisions for all of us. I understand that he had a lot of responsibilities, but while thinking of the greater good, he overlooked the actual people._

_He was the one to leave me at the Dursley’s doorstep. You know how much I hate them, but you don’t know all of it. The Dursley do not lock me in and withhold food **sometimes** , that’s the way it always is when I’m here._

_I never told you because I was ashamed. The Great Harry Potter, couldn’t even protect himself from Muggles…_

_And Dumbledore left me there and never gave it a second thought. Yes, he has a war to prevent and win, and as the leader there is no one better, but as the one responsible for the welfare of children, he is abysmal._

_Think about all the things that have happened since we attended Hogwarts, and then think about what he or any other of the teachers there have done._

_What did he actually do for us while Umbridge terrorized the school and tortured students? Nothing!_

_We were told to keep our heads down and that was it!_

_So, as hard as it is, and I really will miss you and Hermione more than anyone, I’ve decided to disappear. I will lay low and vanish and try to come to terms with everything._

_I will miss you. You are my best friend, the first friend I ever had._

_Did I ever thank you for sitting with me on the first ride to Hogwarts? No?_

_Then, thank you Ron. You are a good friend, no, you are the best!_

_Even when we’ve had our conflicts. I understand how hard it can be to be my friend, and I know you are still ashamed of your actions in our fourth year, but don’t beat yourself up over it. There is nothing to forgive. We are all sometimes overcome by our negative emotions._

_You were always overlooked as the youngest of the Weasley boys and don’t think I did not hear the snide remarks of some of the other student._

_But your parents love you, everyone can see it. You are not the leftover son, the son they only had because they still hoped and tried for a girl._

_And you don’t have to be like your brothers. Be yourself! I like your brothers, but my best friend’s name is Ron, not Bill or Charlie._

_You have talents none of your brothers have. You are a brilliant strategist, you only need to learn to use it more often outside of chess games. You are brave and kind, generous and honest, funny and protective._

_Even if you don’t have much, you willingly shared everything you had with me. The most precious of all – your family. I cannot put into words how much that meant to me. I love your family, thank you for inviting me to be part of it._

_I know this sound like a goodbye and it is one, even if it is not meant forever, but I have to disappear, my tolerance for the wizarding world is at its end at the moment. Please don’t hate me for it._

_Love you,_

_Harry._

Ron stared dumfounded at the letter, trying to make sense of everything written in there.

“What the…” he whispered.

His eyes scanned the letter again, trying to read in between the lines, to find the things Harry did not want to say and perhaps did not even meant to say.

He had the nagging feeling something was not right.

He felt a short spark of anger when he realized that Harry knew of the prophecy and had not told him before, but it vanished when he thought about when he’d learned the contents. And Dumbledore had known all along? Why had he not told them earlier? Why not the moment You-Know-Who had been back?

Had they had known about it, they could have understood what the weird dreams Harry had been having were. Perhaps they even might have realized that the Department of Mysteries had been a trap.

It certainly explained the obsession You-Know-Who had with the Department of Mysteries and Harry.

Why had Dumbledore kept such important information to himself? Had he not trusted the Order and Harry?

And even if You-Know-Who had learned about the prophecy, would that have been really so bad?

He was already obsessed with Harry, or he would never had taken such drastic measures to assure he had his blood for his resurrection. Would the contents of the prophecy really have made a difference? He thought not.

The information about You-Know-Who was horrifying. Really? Splitting his own soul to prevent himself from dying? Ron’s stomach felt queasy from only thinking about it.

His eyes narrowed as he read over the vague explanation of the scar connection. Harry was definitely hiding something. Something important.

He read the letter again and the uncomfortable feeling grew.

Something was definitely not right.

No, something was most definitely _wrong_ , and he intended to find out what. So, he did the only logical thing in this kind of situation.

He wrote a letter to Hermione.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks for a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 19th of December 2018


	11. The trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe. 
> 
> **AN:** Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and commenting. And for all the kudos! Have some Oreos as a thank you!
> 
> I am completely addicted to Oreos at the moment. The book _Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda_ and its movie adaption are at fault. Watching and reading this I somehow wish I had a coming out in school. Which I hadn’t (for me it was always obvious that I am not hetero) but I was this nerdy antisocial girl with the I-am-not-interested-in-the-world-or-people-so-they-have-no-business-being-interested-in-me-attitude, nobody ever asked so I never told. The book and the movie make me wonder what could have happened.
> 
> I am terribly sorry that it took a while for me to update. 
> 
> I give _Yuri!!! on ICE_ and the brilliant work by _Heidi Cullinan_ the fault (both are equally addicting), I am trying to read all her books in the moment. My favourites are _Carry the Ocean, Antisocial_ and _Special Delivery_ , for now.
> 
> Actually, the trial scene was really hard to write for me, so it took a while.  
> But thankfully I have my wonderful and brilliant **beta a-bit-of-madness** , she helped a lot to finalize this and deserves all the hugs and Oreos of the world.
> 
> Additionally, I started the year with a mild concussion, which didn’t make writing easier. But at least that means the New Year can only get better.
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Marvolo had nearly bit all the way through his cheek to prevent himself from smirking in satisfaction. So far, everything was going perfect. Madam Bones had given her opening statement, summarizing the story and the need for this emergency session and an immediate hearing in which he could present his case, as well as the Law of Haxby, on which the case was based. There was more than one shocked gasp when she revealed who he was. Angry, frightened and intrigued gazes were directed towards him, but the overall expression was shock and fear - and Marvolo bathed in it.

They thought Voldemort would be a monster, but here he sat as a mere man. He was not proud of what his alter ego had done, but it was still enjoyable, making all these oh-so-mighty old men sweat. Smug satisfaction filled him at the thought, and he bit his cheek again.

 A vote would follow to decide if he would be given the opportunity to bring forth his case. Marvolo was quite sure if the vote was negative, they would try to throw him into Azkaban the minute the doors of the chamber opened and the Aurors could reach him, but the witches and wizards before him knew now who he had been, and he would not go without a fight. The name Lord Voldemort continued to evoke fear, even amongst the esteemed members of the Wizengamot.

There was a grand total of forty-five seats in the Wizengamot, twenty-eight of which were inherited and seventeen belonging to various department heads and elected members.

Originally, the inherited seats had been passed down through the old pure-blooded families, but overtime many of the families had gone extinct – their seats becoming dormant - or had been sold, gifted or merged by way of marriage.

Marvolo couldn’t be completely sure, as some families did hold more than one or two seats, but it looked like the current Wizengamot was in full attendance,. which was sure to work in his favour - even if Dumbledore had the backing of most of the seventeen non-inherited seats and the seats of the Houses of the light side like the Longbottoms and Abbotts.  

The moment he had stepped into the Wizengamot chamber, Marvolo had consented that the magic of these chambers could and would push him to accept the outcome, but he also knew the chamber’s magic  ensured that the Wizengamot members could not vote negatively if they had even the slightest suspicion that the accused was not guilty.In the end there were only seven votes against an immediate trial, and Marvolo carefully memorized who had cast them. As soon as the vote was completed, Dumbledore closed the session and called for a short break to prepare for the hearing. It was glaringly obvious that those who had voted in favour of the trial saw this as a chance to throw Marvolo in Azkaban by legal means, but he didn’t care in the least.  Even if that were the outcome, it wouldn’t make a difference, the Dementors were already in his corner. 

“From the reactions so far, I don’t think the trial will be a problem.” Thaddaeus gestured to the wizards and witches still seated, parchments in hand. “Most of them are reading over the Law, since it’s only been used once or twice in recorded history.  It’s incredibly simple though, they won’t find any loopholes, and with the presented evidence, the probability of losing is almost zero.” The solicitor smirked slightly at him.

“And even if they wanted to convict me out of pure malice, the magic of the Wizengamot chambers would prevent them from voting against their better judgment.” Marvolo added.

With a loud bang, the doors to the chamber closed again as Dumbledore took his place and the Court Scribe, several Aurors and members of the Department of Mysteries - easily recognizable from the colour of their robes - took their seats. Marvolo didn’t even try to suppress the excitement filling him.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere in the English countryside a snowy owl flew towards a small village in between green hills, her destination a house on the border of the village- or to be more precise, the impressive Greenhouse behind it.

A boy and girl sat on a bench in front of it, enjoying a cool drink in the afternoon heat. Pale eyes watched dreamily as the snowy owl flew towards them, landing in the girl’s lap. “What is Hedwig doing here?” The boy asked, confused.

The girl hummed and gently caressed the owl, which clacked with her beak and extended the leg with the letters to them.

“Oh, see she has letters for us.” The girl gently removed them. “Do you want to rest here, or do you already have to leave to bring the letter to Hermione?” She gestured to the last letter bound to the bird’s leg.

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and nipped at her finger.

The girl nodded.  “I understand.  You’re right, of course, it is best that you return to Harry as fast as possible. Give him a kiss from me.” The girl cradled Hedwig in her arms for a moment, before she lifted her to take flight. With a hoot of farewell, the owl was on her journey again.

The boy started to open the letter and read, but was stopped by the girl, who placed her hand above his holding the parchment.

“Let’s get inside. We need a cup of tea to read these. I think it will be highly distressing. I fear Wrackspurts are making Harry’s brain extra fuzzy at the moment.”

The boy nodded and made his way to the house while the girl followed him, only to stop before she stepped inside.  She looked after the white speck, rapidly growing smaller and sighed. “Harry, remember, things we lose always come back to us in the end. And sometimes they come back in the most unexpected ways or in the form of the most unexpected persons.”

With a last glance at the sky Luna turned around and followed Neville inside.

 

* * *

 

After Dumbledore had opened the trial officially, Madam Bones, as the Head of the DMLE started reading out the long list of Lord Voldemort’s crimes. The List sounded like they simply had written down all possible crimes they could think of: mass-murder, terrorism, the use of the Unforgivables, torture, treason, breach of the Statute of Secrecy, kidnapping, imprisonment, the use of Dark Arts… it was rather impressive.

 Once the reading had been completed, Thaddaeus had given the defence’s opening plea and presented the pensive memories as evidence. A specialist from the Department of Mysteries had inspected them and declared them to be genuine and untampered with.

Marvolo had trouble containing his laughter as he observed Dumbledore, after he and the rest of the Wizengamot had watched his ´memories`.  Most of the witches and wizard before him were not hard to read, at least not for him.  Before seeing the memories, they had looked either negative or passive, some with the typical air of condescension of the old pureblood families. Now, they certainly looked suspicious, but also horrified by what they had seen. More and more faces had intrigued expressions and - he scoffed - some even held something akin to pity.

He did not like that, never had, but it would play in his favour.

The old man though, was definitely suspicious of the authenticity of the memories, judging by the short glance he sent in Marvolo’s direction. But as they had been accepted as evidence and declared untampered, he could not voice any of his suspicion. He would look foolish and risk the rest of the court declaring him compromised.

Next, they had presented the medical report from Healer Farley. The name brought with it a rush of whispers - it seemed her reputation was well known in the Wizengamot. As they read the findings of his mental, magical and physical health examinations, more and more of the witches and wizards before him changed their negative and passive demeanour.

Not even Dumbledore could put aside these findings completely. As he stared at Marvolo with an expression of bewilderment and confliction, it seemed his old professor was not sure anymore if what he had believed to know previously still was true, if perhaps he had misjudged him all these years.

The mirth rose in Marvolo again and he bit his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

After looking through the evidence, Thaddaeus had presented his case in more detail, explained – again - why he did fall under the Law of Haxby and why he was also not guilty of the crimes Lord Voldemort had committed since he had been resurrected, pleading not guilty for most of the crimes.

The next part was where Marvolo would have all the fun.

“The accused has consented to the use of Veritaserum in the interrogation if the court wishes to do so.”

The astonished whispers rose with Madam Bones’ statement. It was a bold move. Veritaserum normally was not used in a hearing, because it’s effect could be countered by different methods, Occlumency amongst them. It was regarded as unreliable, especially because the drinker only stated the truth as he believed it to be, Therefore, it was a risk to use it in court.

A ward went up between Marvolo and the Wizengamot members, and he watched them discuss the matter. Obviously, there were two factions, the ones who wanted to use the potion and the ones who didn’t. He was quite sure to which group Dumbledore belonged, but then the old man knew he was proficient in the mind arts and therefore the possibility for him to counter the potion was high. Marvolo watched in amusement as the discussion got heated. It took a while for the matter to be settled but when he was addressed again, he already suspected what the result would be.

“The Wizengamot has decided against the use of Veritaserum. It will be noted that the accused had suggested the use on his own and was willing to take it.” Madam Bones stated finally and Marvolo had to hide his smirk. He knew they would decide not to use the potion if Dumbledore could prevent it. Now the old man watched him, trying to dissect if he had wanted to be interrogated with Veritaserum or not. Marvolo could see the frustration growing in Dumbledore’s eyes, the infamous twinkle entirely absent for quite a while now.

Madam Bones opened the interrogation, reminding Marvolo that the magic of the Wizengamot chambers would push him to speak the truth, if he lied outright the magic would notify the court. It was in no way a total compulsion, though. He could push the magical pressure away with a little bit of concentration and force of will, and easily lie by omission, Finally, the Chief Warlock addressed Marvolo himself.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle you were born on the 31st of December in London, your mother was the witch Merope Gaunt and your father a muggle named Tom Riddle. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Marvolo knew exactly where Dumbledore wanted to go with this kind of opening question. It would be public knowledge after the hearing that he was a half-blood, and the old man certainly hoped it would damage his standing with his old pure-blood followers.

“You grew up in a Muggle orphanage in London and knew nothing of the magical world before you started Hogwarts when you reached eleven.  Is this true?”

“Yes.” Marvolo was curious if the Chief Warlock would ask after his fifth year in Hogwarts and the opening of the chamber of secrets, but Dumbledore mostly asked about his muggle upbringing, and then about his time after Hogwarts. With every question Marvolo answered in a way that left him looking like a victim, Dumbledore grew more and more frustrated.

“Mr Riddle, you can’t deny that you are Lord Voldemort and the crimes committed in his name, were either done by yourself or his followers.”  Dumbledore’s tone became brisk.

Marvolo leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap. “No, I can’t deny that this body was Lord Voldemort, but I don’t think of myself as that anymore. Since regaining my sanity, I think of Lord Voldemort as a separate entity who occupied my body, and I am horrified by the crimes committed in his name.”

On and on it went, and Marvolo watched with amusement how Dumbledore tried to trap him, asking the same things again and again in different ways – about his usage of Dark Magic and being Lord Voldemort. He even tried to pin him down with his views on Muggles and Muggle-borns - till even his fellow Wizengamot members threw him irritated glances.

The mirth grew, till his face hurt in the attempt to not to smirk in satisfaction. The interrogation had gone perfectly for him and now he watched the debate of the Wizengamot behind silencing charms. It was obvious that more than one member was not happy with the old man and had no problem with making their opinion vocal. Beside him Thaddaeus sat seemingly unfaced by the mayhem they could only see - by now the old Lord Greengrass was screaming at Dumbledore - but the corner of his mouth was twitching.

Yes, it had went perfectly and Marvolo already knew he had won, by the expression Dumbledore wore he knew it too.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon had been relaxing for Severus, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. It was only moments after he had left Malfoy Manor and arrived in his own living room, that the floo flared up behind him and the voice of the Headmaster called out.

“Severus, please come through immediately.” Not even an explanation what he wanted. Severus sneered, pushing his irritation at the Headmaster to the back of his mind.

He knew already what the man wanted to talk about. Lord Nott had sent a house-elf to inform them how the trial went and moments later Narcissa had returned and they had watched the parts of it in the Malfoy family pensieve. Their Lord had other important matters to settle and was therefore still in the Ministry, one of them claiming the Slytherin Lordship and changing his name legally.

Steeling himself and carefully settling his face in a neutral mask, the Potions master called out the Headmaster’s office and stepped through.

“Sit Severus, lemon drop?” Albus gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk and took one of the sweets himself.

“No, thank you. I presume you wanted to talk about whatever the Wizengamot business was?”

Albus sighed. “Yes, Severus. The emergency session was followed by a trial, which was highly disconcerting.” He paused, and the weariness disappeared from his expression. There was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix and the powerful wizard again, Severus knew so well. It was unfortunate that they would be standing on opposite sides, now that the dark fraction had their leader back, but it hopefully would only be in the political battleground not an actual one.

It was not that Severus didn’t respect the Headmaster, quite the contrary really. Even when Albus had used his guilt and shame against him, pressuring him into an oath to protect Lily’s child, and manipulated him in the direction he wanted, Severus had still respected him. He resented the orders and the obvious manipulations and was completely annoyed by the grandfatherly act - and he feared that most of the time it wasn’t even an act - but he still respected the Headmaster.

“It seems Harry did not lie or exaggerate in his letter. Lord Voldemort appeared today before the Wizengamot, demanding a trial. He looks completely human again, used his birth name and had found some obscure, old law which enabled him to get an acquittal from his crimes.”

Severus hid his satisfied smirk behind a cough which Albus luckily read as shock. He looked gravely at the black-haired man and nodded.

“Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle was declared innocent of the crimes Lord Voldemort committed before he lost his body and while being a bodiless spirit, based on the evidence that he was insane and therefore not completely responsible for the crimes done since his rebirth. He has to pay a heavy fine and pay all the repair costs needed for the Ministry. Additionally, he has to present himself at the DMLE in intervals of three months to check his wand for the usage of Dark spells, which he is forbidden to perform, and twice a year for a check-up on his mental and magical health at St Mungo’s.”

Hearing it from Albus himself made the victory of his Lord even more impressive, and once again Severus found himself biting back a smirk.

“Severus, I fear for Harry,” he Headmaster continued. “I don’t believe that Tom has really changed, even if he presented himself today as the victim, and I don’t think that he will leave Harry alone, especially now that he only has Nagini and the boy left as his Horcruxes. A sane Tom Riddle is harder to handle and predict than an insane Lord Voldemort.” The frustration was written all over Albus face.

“What do you suggest, Headmaster?” Severus asked coolly.

“I will call an Order Meeting for tomorrow morning. I am… unsure how to proceed as the whole situation is highly unpredictable and we don’t have all the facts. Please, Severus see if you can gather more information and come directly to me after he finally called for you.”

“Certainly, Headmaster.” Severus stood and – before stepping into the fireplace – looked shortly at Albus. He had never seen him look so old and weary.

 

* * *

 

The first surprise of the day had been Luna knocking in the early hours of the morning on their door. His Gran had not been pleased to have an unannounced guest at first, but Luna had charmed her during breakfast. Or Gran had been too flabbergasted by the blond girl who had wandered into the dining room, greeted her and then talked about Nargles and Wrackspurts and the Rotfang conspiracy in the Ministry while buttering her toast, to say something.

Neville had only smiled and listened. He liked Luna, she was a good friend.  She never treated him different because he was quiet and loved plants more than people, or because he wasn’t as powerful as people thought he should be as the son of Alice and Frank Longbottom. And she was a hell of a fighter, holding her own during their fight in the Department of Mystery.

His thoughts turned towards the events like they had so many times in the last weeks. He had seen Lestrange that day. He had never thought he could hate someone as much as he hated her, and he was sure his boggart wouldn’t be Snape anymore if he ever encountered one again. Her maniacal laugh, her taunts, her breath on the back of his head as she held him at wandpoint to threaten Harry...

Harry… who had lost his godfather because of Lestrange that day. Not that Neville had known that it had been Sirius Black, his godfather, who had fallen through the veil at that time. Luna had told him, afterwards. She had known. She was good at that- knowing stuff without you telling her.

Neville worried about Harry. He hadn’t looked like he was okay when he had seen him last at the Hogwarts express. And why should he? He had lost his godfather, had fought Voldemort and his Death Eaters - again.

Harry, who had believed in him. Taught him defence the last year, showed him that he was better than he himself thought. Who had trusted him enough to take him with him to the Ministry. Harry who never showed people how much he was truly hurting, who sometimes preferred the quiet, like Neville. Who had many people he liked, but only a few he really called friends, only a few he really let in.

Neville knew people underestimated him because he was quiet. They often forgot he was there, but Neville was good at listening and observing. People were harder to understand than plants, but if you had the time to observe them undisturbed, they were not that hard to figure out. That was how he knew Harry was not happy at his relatives, he had seen the signs. He knew that for Harry, his godfather was not only a link to his dead parents, but also the hope for a real family, something he needed to believe he could have.

Neville understood this perhaps better than anyone.  Not that he didn’t love his Gran, but she was his grandmother, not his mother. As much as she loved him - and he knew she did behind her sometimes strict and cold exterior - it was not the same.

But it didn’t look like Harry had even someone like Gran now that Sirius Black was dead. And wasn’t that a devastating thought? The only one Harry Potter had, had been an escaped and – at least he thought so – innocent convict. As much as Ron and his family thought of Harry as being one of them, he was not, and Neville was sure that Harry never really forgot it.

So, since coming back for the summer holidays, Neville worried. How was Harry fairing? Should he write him a letter to remind him he had people who were concerned for him?

Till now he hadn’t had the courage to write a letter. He had never written Harry, they hadn’t been really close friends in their first four years at Hogwarts, would it be too much?

But now, now the second surprise of the day lay before him on the table. No, he hadn’t written a letter to Harry, Harry had written one to him.

Beside him, Luna opened her letter and started reading,and with shaking hands, Neville opened his own. What would Harry have to tell him?

 

_Hi Neville_

_I know I’ve never written you before, but I wanted to tell you a few things._

_You’re a good friend and a brave Gryffindor. Never let someone else tell you differently. Already in first year you showed what real Gryffindor bravery is all about. It is not about not fearing something, no, it is about standing up to your fears. Taking action despite them._

_Think back to third year. Yes, we all stood before our Boggart in class, but most of our year-mates did it once. You did it every day. Every day you went to Potion’s class. Every day you faced your fear for five years now._

_That is true Gryffindor bravery, and I am not sure if I could do it._

_I always run headfirst into situation without even thinking about fearing something. That’s not bravery, it’s stupidity and impulsiveness, and it often led to horrendous consequences._

_I count myself lucky to call you my friend. You stood by my side this whole horrible year and I can’t tell you how much it meant to me._

_At the Ministry you truly showed what you are made off. Thank you for having my back._

_Did you know that there was a prophecy about a baby meant to be the downfall of Voldemort? This prophecy fitted two babies, you and me. Voldemort chose me._

_Since I know the content, I think about ‘what if he had chosen Neville?’_

_Not that I wish that he would have chosen you, I don’t wish my fate on anyone, not even Malfoy._

_But it makes you think. Why me? Because I am a half-blood, like he is?_

_And more than often I think, you would be a better ‘Chosen One’._

_You don’t run into situations without thinking. You are far kinder than me. You don’t scare your friends with you temper, and you are by far a better friend._

_But Voldemort choose me. And I did what the prophecy demanded. Theoretically Voldemort is no more. If you want to know more, talk to Hermione or Ron, or Luna, even if I didn’t tell her details you know she knows, however she manages it._

_Neville, you are a great wizard, stay as you are, kind and brave._

_Yours_

_Harry._

Neville blinked… and blinked again, startled to discover that he had tears in his eyes. The thoughts in his head were chaotic.

A prophecy? _Him_ a possible ‘chosen one’? That would have ended in a catastrophe.

Harry… brave, stubborn, selfless Harry thought _he_ would make a better hero?  A mirthless laugh escaped him.

Harry… who thought him brave, a true Gryffindor, a great wizard, a better friend.

Worry churned his stomach. Why did it sound like a Goodbye forever?

A small hand grabbed his own and he blinked away the tears, looking into big pale eyes. Luna was smiling reassuring at him. “Everything will be fine. Different, changed – yes – but fine. This isn’t a goodbye. Harry will be fine.”

And Neville believed her.

 

* * *

 

Hermione Granger led out a tired huff as she stepped into her room, letting the shopping bags fall out of her hands and herself fall on the bed. Shopping with her Mum always resembled more a marathon than a stroll, especially because she had not been allowed to spend most of their time in the city in the bookstore. But for a short time, she had been able to forget all the things that troubled her, and there were a lot.

Not only was she waiting for her results in the O.W.L. examinations, no funny enough these were the last of the things she worried over since coming home from Hogwarts.

Not even the events at the Ministry of Magic were laying heavily on her mind. No, it was one of her best friends, Harry, who she thought over most of the time.

He had been so closed off after the Ministry. She did understand why, he had lost his Godfather and if she knew him even half as well as she thought, Harry had convinced himself that it was in part his fault. Yes, he had acted recklessly and impulsive, but he had acted based on the limited knowledge they had at that time, and they had trusted Harry’s instincts. They had rescued them more than once in the last years at Hogwarts.

She knew her best friend was hurting, had heard about his explosion in the Headmaster’s office and knew it hadn’t helped, but something else had transpired there. She was sure Dumbledore had told Harry something very important and that it weighed heavily on him, but every attempt she made to coax him to talk to her had failed.

And something had happened at the Ministry besides the loss of Sirius. She knew Harry and the Headmaster had encountered Voldemort again, she hadn’t seen him herself, had been unconscious and didn’t know what Harry had endured exactly, but she knew that something in him had changed. 

Harry had always been reserved, had always held his thoughts and feelings deep inside of him - and she felt privileged to be one of the few people he let in - but she had the suspicion not even Ron and she were allowed to see everything.

And then there was the matter of the Dursleys. Harry had never made a secret of his disdain for his relatives, and some of the things he had said over the years and Hermione’s own observations made her highly suspicious that he friend did not tell them what really was going on behind the doors of 4 Privet Drive. It frustrated her to no end. She wanted to help him, but when she had tried to talk with Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore, both had made it clear that it was nothing. Surely not every family got along, but they were still his family, everything was fine, and it would do her no good to ponder on it. They hadn’t taken her serious.

She hated it when she was not taken seriously, as if being a child somehow made her unobservant or stupid.

She had thought about talking with her parents about some of the things that worried her, but they would try to involve the authorities – of that she was sure – and she didn’t know if that was a good idea, because it would be the muggle ones, not wizarding.

And now, Harry was alone in that house trying to handle the death of his godfather, one of the last links to his parents. She feared for her friend - and that didn’t even take into account how the magical world talked about him now.

Hermione shook her head and pushed the locks of her bushy brown hair which had fallen into her face behind her ears in frustration. She felt so helpless.

“Hermione, there are letters for you!” Her mother’s voice drifted up from downstairs.

“Coming, Mum.”

Stretching she got up and walked into the kitchen, where her mother had put on the teakettle.

“They are on the counter, sweetie. Do you want a cup?”

“Yes, please.” Hermione answered absentmindedly, picking up the two envelopes addressed to her. She frowned as she recognized not just Ron’s messy handwriting, but Harry’s chicken scrawl as well. Ron’s letter she had expected, they had plans for her to stay at the Burrow with his family in August, and he had said something about Professor Dumbledore arranging for Harry to come too, in his last letter.

But the one from Harry? She hadn’t really heard from him since the end of the school year. As always Professor Dumbledore had convinced them that it was not safe enough. Not for the first time, this summer Hermione questioned if she should go against his orders. But now it seemed that Harry had beaten her to it.

Gnawing on her lower lip in worry she set the letter from Harry aside and opened the one from Ron first. Somehow, she knew that whatever Ron had written was linked to Harry’s letter.

 

_Hermione_

_Harry has written to me. His letter is confusing and disturbing, and I am sure there is more going on that he is saying. Do you think your parents will let you come to the Burrow earlier?_

_I’m concerned for Harry._

_He has told me that Dumbledore told him the prophecy and he had to kill You-Know-Who or be killed himself. And he talked about somehow fulfilling it while not being a killer. I think it’s better if you read it yourself. I think you will get a letter from him too._

_I hope you can come earlier, I have a really bad feeling about this._

_Ron_

 

It was short, confusing and messier than normal. The prophecy? Harry needed to kill or be killed? Her stomach turned at the thought. But that couldn’t be everything. That certainly was not why Ron was troubled, and that he was, was obvious from the short letter.

But she did understand the gist of it and her eyes wandered to the other envelope resting on the table before her.

“What did your friend write?” Her mother’s voice cut through her thoughts while setting a cup of steaming tea in front of her.

“Ron is asking if I can come to the Burrow earlier than originally planned. He’s worried about Harry. He doesn’t make much sense, but I didn’t read Harry’s letter yet.” Hermione looked at her mother shortly and picked up Harry’s letter.

“Sweetie, we had some plans for next week, but if it is important then we can cancel them, and you can go earlier. We don’t understand much of your magical world, but friends are important in _every_ world. You told us that Harry went through a lot of traumatizing events and he is your friend. We can’t do much, but your father and I, we want to help. If letting you stay with your friends for the rest of the summer is helpful, then so be it. Read his letter, perhaps you’ll have a better idea what is going afterwards.” Her mother stroked her hair.

“Thanks Mum.” Hermione got up from her chair and gave her a short hug, before settling down again. With a deep breath she opened the letter and began to read.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.
> 
> So that’s it. Finally the trial is done.  
> Many thanks for a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 16th of January 2019


	12. Hermione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the HP Universe.
> 
> **AN:** Thanks to all of you who subscribed, bookmarked and commented. And for all the kudos! Your support means a lot to me and your comments made me smile all the time.
> 
> Many many thanks and hugs to my wonderful and brilliant beta a-bit-of-madness.
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

_Dear Hermione_

_To write this letter to you, to try to explain what is happening, is one of the scariest things I have ever done._

_Where should I start? What can I tell? Because I can’t give you all the details, some I don’t know, some I don’t understand, and some I don’t want to tell._

_Let’s start with the fact, that Dumbledore has hidden the truth of why Voldemort killed my parents. The prophecy Voldy wanted from the Department of Mysteries was about us -_ him and me _._

_According to it, I am the only one who can defeat him. No one can live while the other survives… that’s literary._

_Dumbledore told me after he brought me back from the Ministry. Right after I lost Sirius, right after I somehow managed to throw out Voldy as he tried to possess me._

_I was so lost afterwards, numb and afraid._ _I didn’t know how to tell you. How could I? How could I explain to you that my days were numbered? I have never been under the illusions that I somehow could beat Voldemort. He is so much more powerful than me, has so much more experience and knowledge._

_I always figured Dumbledore had a plan, even if I didn’t understand it, I always believed in him. And then he tells me he believes my special power, the one with which I’m to defeat the darkest wizard of our time, is love._

_LOVE?!_

_How in the name of Merlin could love help me defeat Voldy? But at that point I still believed in Dumbledore, believed he had a plan that I just didn’t understand._

_The isolation here at the Dursleys gave me a lot of time to think, though, and now I realize that I was wrong._

_I have to confess, I did something incredible dangerous and foolish. Don’t be angry with me, Hermione. Everything played out nicely in the end._

_I told you Voldy tried to possess me in the Ministry and you remember that he used our unusual connection a lot the last school year. So I decided to use it too. I went into his head, it wasn’t even hard to do. I learned so much about him, about our connection through my scar. Yes, I found out what the connection actually is._

_Voldemort had built himself a safe net to prevent his own death, my scar is - accidentally - part of it._

_And now comes the part where you will certainly want to scream at me. I destroyed his safe net, not to defeat him – which would mean kill him – no! No, I made him_ sane _again._

_The safety net he had built was made out of parts of his soul that were stored in objects, which led to his insanity and dehumanization. I found a way to destroy these objects and give the soul shards back. Now I only have to sever the connection between my scar and him. Then only Nagini is left, who carries a soul piece. If Tom Riddle is a threat to the wizarding world you know what to do._

_The fact that I destroyed Lord Voldemort is hopefully enough for the prophecy. Tom Riddle lives, but the insane dark wizard does not. Maybe it was foolish - who even knows what a sane Voldemort might do - but I had to do it._

_Dumbledore always talks about choices, and that the easiest ones are not always the right ones. I decided to give Tom Riddle another choice. A chance he never had been given, and it was certainly not the easy choice, but everyone deserves second chances._

_But even if it is enough for the prophecy, the wizarding world, Dumbledore and Riddle will never leave me alone. They will demand more, they always do. Or they will condemn me._

_I am tired, Hermione. So tired of being me._

_I didn’t know my name till I went to primary school. I was so happy to learn that I had one then, but in the last years, I have learned to hate the name_ Harry Potter.

_I don’t have the strength anymore to be me._

_I made a difficult decision, now that my role is finished. I’m going to take a break from being Harry Potter._

_I will miss you, Hermione. You are the sister I never had. Without you, Ron and I would never had survived our first year. You were always there for me, even when nobody else believed me. I hope you know how much that meant to me._

_I could always count on you, and I was only as brave as I was because I knew I had you to catch me if I fell._

_You are the brightest witch of our generation, brilliant, hard-working, kind-hearted and brave. You deserve the world, take it by storm. Never let someone tell you something different._

_But you are also quite scary, I will forever remember Malfoy’s face when you punched him. I never wanted to make you angry at me, but I know after this letter you certainly will be and for this, I am sorry._

_I know that I am being frustratingly vague, but I have the greatest respect for your intelligence. If you knew my plan, you certainly would have interfered and convinced me not to do it, and I fear that I would relent._

_I have to do this though. Please don’t hate me for disappearing. I’m tired, tired of the expectations of the wizarding world. I need a break. I know this sounds like a goodbye, but no goodbyes are forever._

_I love you._

_Harry_

 

For a moment Hermione only stared at the parchment she was gripping in her hands. Her normally analytical mind was in chaos and the letters blurred in front of her eyes. A hand on her shoulder startled her back into reality.

“Hermione? Is everything alright?”

She looked up to see her mother standing by her side, her expression concerned.

Hermione’s throat was too dry. Picking up the teacup her mother had placed beside her, she took a gulp. “No. Ron is right to worry about Harry. This,” she gestured at the parchment, “is a letter from Harry. The content… it worries me. Something is definitely not right. But not only the content is disturbing, the way it is written… Mum I don’t know what to do.” She slid the parchment to her mother, who sat beside her and started reading.

“He is deliberately vague, and I know – I feel it – he plans to do something incredibly stupid because he thinks he has to. That’s Harry, if an idea got stuck in his head it is hard to convince him not to do it, even at the cost of his own wellbeing. He is too impulsive and reckless, he doesn’t always think everything through. And now he is stuck at the Dursleys, with nobody who gives a damn about him and after he had lost his godfather, he is definitely not fine. He wasn’t fine when we got back from Hogwarts.” She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t stop, there were just too many things happening in her head

“He tried to hide it, but I know my best friend. He was grieving and showed signs of depression. Who knows what the isolation did to him.  Mum, what can I do, he is my best friend! He needs me and I don’t know what I can do!” Hermione clenched her fists in frustration and helplessness.

Her mother placed the parchment aside and gently loosened her fists.

“You are an intelligent girl, Hermione. Whatever it is, you will figure it out and we will help you. I do understand your concerns; the overall tone of the letter doesn’t promise something good. The moment your father comes home, we will drive you to Ron’s and stay and talk with his parents about what we can do. Perhaps there is something Harry revealed in his letter to Ron that he didn’t do in yours. Till then, pack what you need and read the letter again, perhaps after calming down some things will make more sense. Sometimes the meanings hidden between the lines reveal much more than the actual words.”

Hermione nodded, picked the parchment up and got up to walk out of the kitchen, her mother’s voice stopping her in her tracks.

“Didn’t you say Harry is living with his relatives. Are they magical?”

She turned around. “No, they are not magical. Why?”

“Do you know where they are living? Perhaps you could find out their address or telephone number and call?”

Hermione’s head whipped around to stare at her mother wide eyed. “Mum, you are a genius.”

Her mother blinked at her in surprise, but Hermione was already hurrying out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two steps a time. How could she have forgotten that Harry had given her the Dursleys telephone number years ago? She rummaged in her desk drawer, till she found the small strip of parchment with a few numbers scribbled on in Harry’s familiar handwriting. Sighing in relief that she hadn’t thrown it away, she rushed back down the stairs.

Back in the kitchen she picked up the telephone, punched in the numbers and waited, biting her fingernails.

It rang… and rang… and rang…

But nobody was picking up. Trepidation settled into her stomach.

Yes, it could be that they all went out for a family afternoon or perhaps even a holiday, but she knew that they never would take Harry with them. He never had said it outright, but he had mentioned enough for her to know that the Dursleys didn’t count Harry as family and vice versa. And somehow, she didn’t see the Dursleys changing suddenly.

The dial tone still ringing in her ear, Hermione considered her next steps. Her mind finally calming down, the initial confusion and panic disappeared now that her mind had a goal again. This was no different than the mysteries they had solved at Hogwarts and she was good at that.

So, what was next? Gathering intelligence.

She looked at the crumbled letter she still held in her hand. She would pack and read the letter again, as her mother suggested. Her father would be back in less than an hour. It would take them a few hours to reach the Burrow but once she was there, she could talk with Ron, let him read her letter and read his letter. She would go from there.

From the Burrow they could even fire call Professor Dumbledore if needed. Talk with him about what Harry meant with the safe net he had mentioned in his letter, talk about the prophecy.

Hermione had always had the greatest respect for Professor Dumbledore, but now a hard and acidic feeling settled into her stomach. How could the Headmaster think it was a good idea to tell a traumatized teenager who had lost his father-figure that he had to kill or be killed?

Knowing that anger would not help her or Harry, she sighed and replaced the handset.

But the unanswered dial tone still rang in her ear for a long time.

 

* * *

 

Harry could hear the telephone ringing down in the kitchen and was wondering who would call. Most of the Dursleys acquaintances certainly knew they were away for a few days.

For a brief moment he considered breaking out of his room and answering the call, it would be nice to hear a human voice beside his own, even if it was only a salesperson, but he discarded the idea immediately. First, he wasn’t even sure if he would manage breaking out, the Dursleys had locked all the locks on his door; second, the call was definitely not for him. Who would even call him?

Then he remembered that he had given Ron and Hermione the telephone number for Privet Drive ages ago. Save the one disastrous try from Ron in the summer after second year they never had tried to reach him that way.

His heart ached to hear his friends’ voices, but no, it couldn’t be one of them, and it was better that way. He knew his conviction would waver if he had the chance to talk to them, but the thought that perhaps one of his friends tried to reach him after reading their letters made his throat constrict.

He turned around on his bed, put the pillow over his head and tried to sleep, despite the bright afternoon sun shining through the window. He was so tired of everything.

The telephone rang for a long time.

 

* * *

 

Ron had been nervous since he had sent the letter to Hermione. He couldn’t sit still, so he had helped his mother in the house and the garden without complain. He had gotten a few strange glances from Mrs Weasley and Ginny because of it, but he couldn’t care less.

The air felt charged, like before a huge thunderstorm. The moments before Harry had returned from the maze during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament or when they had wandered down the dark halls of the Department of Mystery had felt similar.

Something was going to happen, something big, and it would change everything.

He may not have the analytical, logical intelligence Hermione possessed or the instinctual, intuitive intelligence Harry had, but he was not stupid. He practically could see the chess pieces moving, but he couldn’t see the whole board and therefore nothing made sense so far. He wasn’t even sure anymore who were players, who were pieces, and which moves had been made.

What was the purpose of those letters?

What did change now that Lord Voldemort was gone? And how would the new player Tom Riddle behave?

The vagueness of Harry’s letter drove him crazy.

And there was still the lingering unease when he thought how Harry had described the connection between him and Riddle. He was definitely missing parts of the puzzle and it unnerved him and made him angry. Angry that Harry, his best friend, was planning something which he was hiding from him; and it worried him immensely. If Harry felt the need to not tell him, he planned something extraordinary stupid and dangerous, which – in case of Harry – normally meant that his life was in danger.

Ron knew Harry had problems with trusting people - he had learned that lesson in fourth year, and he knew how difficult it was to get his trust back.

That he now decided to take action without talking with someone about it, not trusting others to understand and accept his plan, was a bad sign.

Hopefully Hermione had gotten his letter and was on her way.

Walking nervous circles in his bedroom Ron nearly didn’t hear his mother’s voice.

“Ron, your father is here, and you brothers will arrive shortly. Come down please.” Her voice sounded strange, like she tried to conceal a waver or shaking in her inflexion.

Frowning, Ron walked down the stairs into the kitchen, where his father was sitting at the table nursing a cup of tea, looking tired, anxious and stricken all at once.

“Dad? What happened?” Nobody who had seen his father’s expression could deny that something definitely had occurred.

Mr Weasley shook his head and rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “Not now Ron, I don’t want to tell it more than once. Let’s wait till your brothers are here.” His voice was calm despite his obvious state of shock.

As if they had heard him, the floo flared and Fred, or was it George? – Ron never had managed to tell them apart when they were not both in the same room – stepped out, directly followed by his twin a few seconds later.

Before somebody could even say hello there was a knock on the door and Bill stepped inside, greeting their father with a nod and their mother with a kiss on the cheek, he sat down looked around the room.

“I can guess what this is about – “ He began but Mrs Weasley held up her hand to interrupt him.

“Everyone sit down, we will wait till Charlie is here. George could you please go outside and call for Ginny? She should be at the pond.” She placed several teacups and a teapot on the table. Ron registered that she didn’t say anything about Percy, despite that she had insisted to write him.

George left the kitchen shortly and returned only moments later with Ginny, who looked around the room in surprise and alarm. Ron realized with sadness that his little sister immediately jumped to the conclusion that something had happened. The war – even if it hadn’t broken out on a large scale for now – had changed her too.

Bill cleared his throat. “So, Charlie is also coming from Romania?”

Mrs Weasley nodded. “Yes, he had planned to come in two days to spend at least two weeks of the summer holidays with us. Your father managed to make an international floo call and asked him if he was available earlier. A colleague of his was kind enough to exchange Portkeys with him. He should arrive shortly.”

Nobody actually asked why everyone should gather today, but Ron saw the glances his parents exchanged, and knew it wasn’t only about the letters. He recalled the content of Harry’s letter. He had given You-Know-Who his sanity back and Ron had the suspicion it was linked to whatever had rattled his parents.

The door opened and the unmistakable short and stocky form of Charlie entered the kitchen. Once he greeted Mr and Mrs Weasley and hugged each of his siblings, the exception Bill, who got a friendly slap on the back, he sat down. Silence hung over the kitchen for a brief moment.

“So, what’s up?” Fred asked, looking between his parents and Bill.

Mr Weasley sighed, visibly pulled himself up and started explaining in a flat, emotionless tone. “Today an emergency Wizengamot meeting had been called during which an old law was used to pardon a wizard who had lost his body once and was brought back a year ago. He was found innocent of the crimes which were done before his resurrection and parts of the crimes since he got his body back, due to insanity, which he claimed to have been for the last decades because of an accident. He claims he only regained his mind a short while ago. That’s the official statement the Ministry staff members were given late this afternoon. The wizard’s name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, formally known as… Lord Voldemort.” He stumbled shortly over the last name.

Silence followed his words. Most of the Weasley’s looked stunned, Ginny was definitely horrified while Bill had a grim expression. Ron sighed audibly and closed his eyes, it seemed whatever reckless stunt Harry had tried had been... successful. _Riddle_ was now official innocent and claimed to be sane again, whatever that meant.  Not that Ron had doubts that whatever scheme Harry had thought of would have been successful, they always were successful in one way or the other.

When he opened his eyes again, he was met with the surprised looks of his family. His reaction had not been overlooked.

“Ron?” His mother was looking at him expectantly, demanding an explanation.

He sighed again and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I did read my letter already. To make it short, Harry told me that he found a way to destroy Lord… Voldemort by rebuilding his sanity.” He wasn’t sure what Harry wanted his parents to know, should he mention the prophecy? The safety net? The connection via his scar? As he didn’t know what Harry had written in their letters, he decided against it.

“Ron! I told you that we would read them all together. What is this about Harry returning You-Know-Who’s sanity?” Mrs Weasley voice rose with every word and only the reassuring hand of her husband’s hand on her arm kept her from standing up.

“I –” Ron started but George interrupted him. “Wait! What is this about letters?”

Mrs Weasley sighed and reached into the pocket of the apron she was wearing, producing the pile of letters.

“Ron and I found these around lunchtime. They are all from Harry, one for each of us. As this goes against every typical behaviour of Harry, I decided it would be better we read them all together, in case he did hide something in them, and we would miss the message if we only know the content of one letter. Your father agreed with me, but it seems Ron stole his when I was not looking and read it already.” She looked at him in disappointment briefly.

Everyone else was staring at the pile on the table.

Mr Weasley ran a tired hand over his face, then looked at his family with a determined expression. “It seems Harry had something to do with the happenings today at the Wizengamot, even if indirectly. If he really brought back Y… _Riddle’s_ sanity, he certainly had his reasons and believed it to be the best way to proceed, but as we don’t know what exactly transpired in the Wizengamot and how Harry is involved it is best we read these letters now. Tomorrow morning Professor Dumbledore called an Order meeting, and as every one of you got a letter, you will all attend.” He stopped his wife before she could open her mouth completely. “Yes, Molly, everyone. Something tells me that the letters and the appearance of Riddle today are only the beginning. Now, I don’t demand you hand over the letter addressed to you for others to read, but I want you to share with us the contents.”

It looked like Mrs Weasley wanted to protest and demand that she got to read all the letters, but her husband’s expression stopped her again. “The letters are addressed to every one of us, exclusively, therefore they are private. Now, before we read the letters. Bill? You also knew what had happened today?” He addressed the oldest of the Ron’s brothers.

“Not exactly what had happened at the Wizengamot, but I was at Gringotts when a high priority client came in. I heard enough to know that the Slytherin Lordship was successfully claimed at the Ministry shortly before, and the client – _Lord Slytherin_ – wanted to visit his newly inherited vaults. I got a glimpse of him, and from afar he looked like a man in his mid-thirties, perhaps forty, but not older. As we only know of one descendant of Salazar Slytherin, I assumed it had something to do with the rumours of the Wizengamot meeting. How however You-Know-Who could have legally claimed the Lordship I didn’t know. I already got the information that we have an Order meeting tomorrow and would have mentioned it then.” Bill leaned back with arms crossed in front of his chest.

The news was digested in a heavy silence, nobody knew what they should say, nobody knew what the unpredictable events even meant. With another heavy sigh Mr Weasley began handing out the letters.

Before they could even open them though, there was a short quiet knock on the door. Had the kitchen not been utterly quiet, nobody would have heard it. They exchanged looks as Bill slid his wand into his hand and went to open the door.

The man standing behind it made everyone gasp, and Mrs Weasley’s hands trembled visibly.

“Percy?” It wasn’t clear who said it.

Percy stood there, shoulders hunched as he tried to avoid everyone gazes. “I –” He gulped. “I got your letter and I… I wanted to say, I am sorry, I was an idiot.” The last part was barely a whisper.

“Oh Percy.” Mrs Weasley jumped out of her seat and enveloped her wayward son. “It doesn’t matter what happened as long as you are here again.”

When Ron caught Percy’s gaze as he looked over the shoulder of their mother, he frowned at him, trying to show him his whole disdain over his brother’s actions. He remembered quite well the letter regarding Harry he had gotten from his brother and the grief he had caused their parents.

Percy averted his gaze quickly.

Ron glanced at his other brothers and saw the nearly murderous glint in the twins’ eyes. They wouldn’t forgive him just because he came back and said sorry either. A simple sorry wasn’t enough.

“So, what changed your mind?” Fred asked with a hard voice. Percy flinched and Mrs Weasley turned around, glaring at the room in total.

“No, Mum, we need to know. Family is everything to us. _He_ threw _us_ away and now he comes crawling back with a sorry and everything should be fine?” It was Ginny who nipped the upcoming tirade in the bud, to the astonishment of most of the kitchen. That was the second time Mrs Weasley had been stopped before she could even begin one of her famous rants. Normally, they simply let her go and tried to outlive the storm.

That sweet little Ginny was the one to stop their mother, with a voice clearly expressing that she took no arguments, was a surprise, at least to the Weasley parents and the older siblings.

Ron mentally snorted, none of them had seen what Ginny had done in the Department of Mysteries. Oh, the twins had witnessed her performances in the DA, but they didn’t know how tough she actually was, hadn’t seen her go against adult Death Eaters. Again, Ron was sad to see that her childhood was overshadowed.

“I… I heard what happened at the Ministry a few weeks ago and what happened today at the Wizengamot… and now You-Know-Who is walking around freely… and I… I was an idiot and a pompous prat and…” Percy stammered.

“And a Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron.” George finished for him.

Percy looked down. “Yes.”

“Then we are clear.” And with that, George settled down at the table again and started opening his letter. For a brief moment everyone was unsure how to behave, then they followed while Mrs Weasley explained shortly to Percy why they had written him and gave him the letter addressed to him.

Ron observed his brother as Percy stared at his name written in Harry’s horrible handwriting and could guess quite accurately what he was thinking. By the horrifying and guilty look on his face, he remembered the letter _he_ had to written to Ron quite well.

Ron settled at the table, pulled his own letter out of the pocket of his trousers – where he had kept him, reading Harry’s words over and over again - and read it again. The content was still frustrating, and he really hoped Hermione was already on her way.

 

* * *

 

Draco sneezed as he carefully turned another page of the very old book he held open on his knees. His father would be horrified to see him sitting on the floor, but the desk and chair he had used had filled up more and more with books over the day.

Were Lucius to look into the library he would probably have a heart attack. Numerous books laid aside, more than one open at random pages, while others were piled in high, unstable looking towers, and stacks parchment littered the floor. Hidden behind all the chaos, Draco turned another page, frowning. The text before him was not old, it was _ancient_ , written in Runes so old that some of them weren’t taught at Hogwarts and he had problems translating parts of it.

Consulting an equally old book on the meaning of Ancient Runes his eyes widened, then a grin spread over his face.

“I’ve got you.”

Grabbing a parchment from a nearby book tower – which promptly fell over – he picked up the quill he had placed behind his ear in fear of losing it in the chaos and started writing.

Potter may have shown true Slytherin traits using the _Truth and Oath_ Parchment, and perhaps he should have been in Slytherin, but Draco came from a long line of Slytherin ancestors and was nothing if not determined. That he had the vast resources of the Malfoy library at his disposal certainly played into his hands as well.

Reading the passage, he had translated from the old book about ancient treaties, a satisfying smirk settled on his features.

Yes, based on oath the reader had to agree to, _Truth and Oath_ Parchment could be practically unbreakable. The reader couldn’t betray the oath he had sworn, and if he had been sworn to secretary – as Draco had – he couldn’t willingly tell, or write, or show someone via the mind arts the content. Not even under the Imperius curse. The moment he tried, occlumency shields would hide the content and Draco would feel like his own blood was trying to burn him from the inside, while his magic would turn against him. The description in one of the books about such oaths had been horrifyingly detailed.

Therefore, an oath sworn to secrecy on the parchment was practically fool proof, but the crux was that if the content was forcefully ripped out if the reader's mind, it didn’t count as _willingly_. It came down to the willingness - or better _unwillingness -_ of the reader.

Draco winced when he thought about the pain someone from whom the content of a _Truth and Oath_ Letter was forcefully taken, would be in. If he tried to go down this way, he had to put up a fight, a struggle good enough to satisfy the oath that he was not giving up the knowledge willingly. That meant it had to be literary ripped out of his mind. Which also meant he needed a Legilimence powerful enough to rip the oath shields apart.

He sighed. Now he knew the weakness of the oath, he theoretically had a plan, but how could he provoke his godfather enough to not only use Legilimency against him but break through his own rudimentary shields AND rummage through his mind to find what he needed to see? He had a headache only thinking about it.

“Potter, I hope you are bloody worth it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading, let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks for a-bit-of-madness for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 16th of February 2019


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